


Hope

by wefoundhumor



Series: Hope [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Comedy, Coping, Crimes & Criminals, Emotional Healing, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love, Romance, Self-Discovery, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2019-11-24 19:31:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 74,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18169142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wefoundhumor/pseuds/wefoundhumor
Summary: An undercover detective wants to help with the deviancy cases in order to close her own investigation into Detroit's last big Red Ice dealer. With her learning how to be a cop again and Connor trying to make amends for past actions, Hank has to keep them both out of trouble. Things only get more complicated as the revolution, and their relationships with each other, grow stronger.





	1. Kitchen Floors and Negotiators

**Author's Note:**

> This story extends the timeline of the game to span across half a month rather than six days, and begins on the night of The Nest.

 

**November 5, 2038**

 

Connor had not been a sympathetic partner.

Up until a week ago, he'd been in the field alone. He dealt with various government agents and officers, of course, but they were all passing faces. Whether they liked him or not, and they often didn't, they were a temporary resource to aid him in completing his missions.

Hank Anderson was different. He was cantankerous, unmotivated, and on most days, drunk. He was difficult to work with, and even more difficult to understand. He didn't take to aggression: Connor had gone as far as spilling the Lieutenant's drink to convince him to go to a crime scene, which resulted only in threats and reluctant cooperation. He also didn't accept placation: any attempt at apology or nicety was met with a hard stare and a mutter.

Connor was getting there, though.

Just that morning, they'd been chasing a deviant around the middle of Detroit. Rather,  _ Connor _ had been chasing the deviant -- Hank made some quick calculations and cut the android off on a nearby rooftop. By the time Connor arrived to the scene, the android had bolted for the next building and pushed Hank over the ledge.

Every part of his programming told Connor that catching the deviant was his priority. CyberLife designed him for that. Hank would have either held on until help could come, or he would have pulled himself up to safety. The deviant was what mattered.

The deviant could also be caught later, but Hank needed help  _ then. _ Connor pulled him up to his feet, letting the deviant go. Hank told him it didn't matter. He tried to thank him, but Connor already discovered that Hank was not a very open person. 

Now they sat in Hank's driveway. It'd been an awkward ride. Connor was reporting into CyberLife, and Hank was left to his own convoluted thoughts of who his partner was and why he did what he did. 

"We'll just be a minute."

Connor nodded, seeing Hank exit the car through the reflection of the passenger's window. He followed suit, and looked up at the small, one-story home as Hank moved toward the steps of the front door. Something was amiss.

_ The stove light is on. _

Connor turned his stare toward the side of the house, where grass had been trampled down into a narrow, almost unnoticeable path.  _ Tire treads around the house. A motorcycle. _

"Were you expecting company, Lieutenant?" He asked.

Hank furrowed his brows. "What?" He looked in the direction of Connor's attention, quickly spotting the same clues as the android detective. He went still, and alert. "No, I wasn't."

Stepping forward, he pushed Connor behind him and began to walk toward the house. He reached for his firearm, whispering, "Stay behind me."

Connor would follow the order as he scanned the house for further signs of a break-in. They ascended the steps to the front door, and Connor took note of the stain on the knob and the scratches on the lock.  _ Lock picked. Blood on the knob. Human. They're injured. Trying to hide in a random home? _

He looked to the window as Hank turned his key and began to push the door open. Connor thought back to a conversation they had at the station -- Hank had a pet.  _ Lieutenant's dog isn't barking. Knows assailant, or was incapacitated. _

Hank took a slow step inside the home. He waited to hear a footstep or a scuffle, but found nothing other than silence. The dog was absent from the living room, and Connor could find no trace of a fight.  _ Probability of random encounter low. More likely they know the Lieutenant. _

In the kitchen, a hand peeked out from behind the dinner table, tossing aside a red beanie. Hank stopped in his tracks, but only for a moment. Someone had broken into the house, and appeared to be on the floor of his kitchen.

They approached quietly, Hank raising his arms to aim his firearm ahead. They reached the tile of the kitchen floor, and closed in on the prowler.

Behind the table sat a young woman. Connor estimated her to be 5'9", though the long, rectangular face and lean frame no doubt made her appear taller to the human eye. She wore a black motor jacket and gray hoodie over a white top that had wrinkled ends which led him to believe it was normally knotted at the waist. That night, however, it'd been undone and pushed up closer to her chest so she could clean and stitch a wound in her side.

She looked up upon noticing movement, and once she saw them, she rather stiffly greeted, "Hey, Hank."

The second he spotted her, he lowered his gun and leaned back, shock on his face. " _Jesus! _ I could have shot you!" He exclaimed before putting the safety back on. He put the gun down on the table with a loud thud. "What the  _ fuck, _ Andy?"

_ Andy. Nickname. Familiar with one another. _ Connor looked down to her injury, which had a string of thread connecting it to a needle in her hands.  _ Abdominal bleeding. Stab wound. Was attempting to apply stitches herself. _

She shrugged a single shoulder on her intact side. "I didn't have anywhere else to go, so uh...," Looking down at the mess around her, which consisted of some bloody napkins, a bottle of alcohol, and a white rag tinted pink, she added, "Sorry about the dish rag."

"Sorry about the--" Hank couldn't believe what he was hearing. He shook his head, stepping closer to tower over her. He held up an arm and waved it toward the door, wherever he assumed the nearest medical center was in the city. "There's a hospital nine blocks away!"

She wasn't fazed by his yelling, and in fact, she offered a small grin. "Then you should be flattered I chose your marvelous bedside manner over professional care," She replied.

_ Bedside manner not marvelous. Sarcasm. Very familiar with one another. _

With a heavy sigh, Hank took off his jacket and threw it at a chair by the table. He lowered to his knees beside her, and peeled her jacket back to get a better look at her abdomen. "Jesus, kid, what did you get into now?"

Connor took a cautious step forward, deciding to finally speak. "Her injury isn't serious, Lieutenant, but you should let her continue with treatment before we distract her with questioning."

Hank snapped his head up, Connor's words only exasperating his mood. "Isn't serious? She's got a hole in her side!" 

"The blood on the knob has dried and she's almost completed her stitches. If it was serious, she wouldn't be conscious now," Connor explained with the same tone he'd used at previous crime scenes. Nodding toward her, he finished, "Additionally, the bleeding has stopped and it looks to be in a non fatal area."

They stared at him a moment. If he were human, he'd daresay he started to feel nervous under the attention.

Andy spoke first. "Who's robo doc?" She asked, tilting her chin up to point it at him.

Quick nickname or not, it was inaccurate. "I'm not a doctor. I work with the lieutenant," Connor corrected.

Her lips stretched into another grin, and both her shoulders moved this time from a small, amused huff. A cringe immediately followed it, and she looked down at her side to ensure everything looked in order.

_ A laugh. Amusement from my response. That I work with Lieutenant Anderson or that I'm not a doctor? _

Hank reached forward and took the needle from her grasp. He slapped her hands away, saying, "Let me handle this, all right? Hands off."

She held them up in a mock surrender, but kept watch over his movement near her stomach. "Aye aye."

* * *

As Hank finished her stitching job, Connor moved down the hall. This was the first time he'd been in the lieutenant's home, and he wanted to take the opportunity to explore.

The bedroom door was cracked open, and he could see the tail of a large Saint Bernard resting on the bed. Whether he belonged in that room or not, Connor assumed Andy had led him in there as a matter of convenience. For now, he would leave that room be.

The bathroom was its own treasure. On the mirror above the sink were a handful of sticky notes. Some were pleasantries that he couldn't imagine Hank ever saying -- things like 'k _ eep smiling _ ,' and ' _ today will be fabulous _ .' Others were far more aligned to his personality; ' _ I'm not grumpy, I just don't like you, _ ' was particularly in the spirit of the Hank Anderson he knew.

Connor looked down to the sink, which had spots of blood and a rim of pink around the drain. He reached in, dabbing the substance on the tip of his middle finger. A quick scan across his tongue told him just enough about the woman in the next room.

_ Blood type A. Andrea Hope. Twenty-nine, detective at the Detroit Police Department, Special Investigations Division. Last known case was with the Red Ice Task Force. Confirmed ties to Hank. _

* * *

In the kitchen, Andy watched Connor walk down the hall before turning back toward Hank. "I heard you were workin' with AI, but I thought they were just trying to mess with me."

"Eh, shut up," He muttered back. He took a moment to pause his work and look up at her with accusing eyes. "And who's  _ they _ anyway? You aren't talking to anyone on the force, are you?" If she was endangering herself just to talk to coworkers, he was fairly certain he would lose his mind. He knew she'd be the death of him eventually.

She was quick to defend herself under his skepticism. "It's just Richards," She whined, annoyed, "I'm following orders, don't worry."

He scoffed, returning to his task. "I don't think breaking into my house was an order."

"They've got eyes in the hospital," She replied, "I show up there, they pull my insurance information, and I'm either dead or in witness protection."

He pulls the thread through one last time, and straightens his back to glare at her. "You've been stabbed, Andy. Maybe you need it," He argued.

She removed a hand from her shirt to wave him off. "This was just some junkie."

"They're all junkies!"

"I'm not compromised," She said, looking him in the eyes. The firm tone was enough to reassure him, but he doubted he would ever stop worrying.

Connor quietly reappeared from around the corner. Hank was tying the thread at the end of Andy's stitches when her voice turned chipper, "I also have some information that might help you out if you're nice about it."

This caught Connor's attention. Information from someone in SID had to be helpful to his case, and it was a big win considering the loss they had earlier on the roof.

Hank reached for the scissors beside her and cut the remaining thread. Resting his elbow on his knee, he quirked a brow. "How about I don't kick you out for getting blood all over my floor?" He offered, motioning to the splatters on the tile around her.

She looked down at the mess, then pursed her lips. Patting on Hank's shoulder, she grabbed hold of a nearby drawer and started pushing herself up to her feet. She grabbed her beanie to take with her, and shoved it over dark brown hair. "We can negotiate on terms later. I need to pee."

As she left to the bathroom, she nodded to Connor in passing. He watched Hank gather up the napkins and wipe the blood away with the rag. If Hank's response was anything to go by, he wasn't interested in receiving help from the detective. 

Yet again, Connor found himself trying to persuade his partner. He would start slow this time, nice but casual. He'd work his way up to the point. "She seems... interesting."

"One way of puttin' it," Hank grumbled, cursing under his breath as he stood and moved to toss the napkins in the trash.

"I take it the detective is undercover," Connor continued.

Hank paused. It'd been a long day for them, and as much as Hank was starting to rethink his current partner, he was still suspicious of the android. "No, no, don't do that," He warned, pointing at Connor, "Don't look up her file. I'm serious, Connor, you stick to your case."

Connor's eyes narrowed a little. Why couldn't Hank just see the opportunity in front of them? It was like he was trying to-- No. Connor was  _ not _ frustrated. He  _ couldn't _ be. "If she has information that could be valuable to us, she  _ is _ my case," He explained, trying to remain calm.

"Well don't I feel special?" With a startle, Connor turned to the left and found Andy standing beside him. She watched him with big eyes and a smile, and for a moment, Connor was caught off guard. She leaned back against the wall and looked toward Hank. "Ready to negotiate?"

Hank sighed. "What do you want?" He asked her warily.

Her smile fell, a serious mood falling over her. "I want in on the deviancy cases."

"Hell no."

The response was instantaneous, but so was Connor's: "Offer accepted."

Surprise flashed across Andy's face, and she reeled her head back. Pointing at him, she turned to Hank and asked, "Can he do that?"

Hank's stare was drilling into the side of Connor's head. Even for an android, he could feel it. "No, he can't."

Connor was not giving up this fight, however. "The department has given CyberLife enough authority on this case to agree to these terms," He explained.

Slashing a hand through the air, Hank said, "I don't give a damn what CyberLife has -- she's not on the case."

"Come on! I have contacts you don't," Andy argued with a pout, "Red ice has skyrocketed these past few weeks. You know why?"

"Deviants."

She nodded, confirming Connor's guess. "They're looking for help and instead they're finding manufacturers. I can get you information on who and where, but I can't do that without direct access to you, Hank."

No matter how good it all sounded, Hank didn't want to hear it. It wasn't a matter of her performance on the job. This went much deeper than that. "You can tell it to Richards and he can pass it along--"

"Richards doesn't give a shit about what happens to the androids," She interrupted with a scoff. Connor made a note of this comment. It implied sympathy for androids, which was the first display he'd seen of such an attitude from a human.

Hank picked up on it, as well. He pointed at her as if finding his 'ah-ha' moment. "And that's why I'm not letting you on the case. You do." Glancing down at the rag still in his hand, he tossed it into the kitchen sink before continuing. "We're not doing this to protect some robots, Andy. We're hunting them down, do you get that?" He pressed.

If his words stung, she didn't let it show, saying, "I rather it be you than the dealers."

"Lieutenant." Hank turned his attention to Connor, who was pretty sure that threats, at least, would be successful against the man. "If you refuse to let her on the case, I'll bring her on as a CyberLife consultant."

"Hear that? Bet consultants don't get badges and security clearance," Andy teased, excited by Connor siding with her.

Hank stared. They returned it with ones of their own, like children on Christmas Eve. They'd known each other twenty minutes and already they were partners in crime. "Son of a..." He ran an arm over his forehead, turning away from them. "I can't believe I'm getting tag-teamed by a bratty kid and a fuckin' android."

"Then you know we make a good team," She stressed, slapping a hand against Connor's arm, "Hank, you know I'm good for it."

After a few more seconds of contemplation, Hank nodded. "Yeah. I do. I'll talk to Fowler and Richards in the morning, see what we can work out."

She jumped a little, clapping her hands together in victory. "All right," She laughed a little, and then gestured to the fridge behind Hank. "So you want to get me a beer, or what?"

* * *

Andy and Connor sat across from one another at the dinner table. He watched her as she leaned back in her chair, and tapped her index finger on the table's surface. She ignored his attention on her, instead waiting for Hank to open and hand her a bottle of beer.

"Thanks," She murmured, taking it from him as he lowered into his own seat.

She lifted the bottle to her lips, when Connor held out a hand to stop her. "Have you taken any sort of medication in the last few hours for that injury?" He questioned.

Lowering the bottle, she looked between him and Hank. "Is he serious?" She asked the man, tilting the bottle toward him.

Hank stumbled through an attempt at an explanation for his partner before sighing. He had no energy to fight Connor now -- sometimes it was best to just play along. " _Have _ you?"

"Oh for...," She trailed off and plopped her beer onto the table. Sliding it toward Hank, she peered across the table at the android. "Fine. Happy?"

Connor couldn't feel happiness, but if he were capable, he would have. He gave a simple nod. Beside him, Hank tried to push the conversation along. "Just give us this info you got."

Straightening her back, Andy rested her elbows on the table and leaned toward them. She slipped into work mode like it was nothing, asking, "You remember Spades?"

Hank nodded. "'Course I do. What about him?"

At Connor's inquisitive gaze, she shifted her focus to him and explained. "After that big bust seven years ago, not many big dealers were left in Detroit. Mostly all small fish; they work a couple blocks and that's it. Which reminds me--" Snapping her fingers, she informed Hank, "That guy on the news yesterday, with the deviant housekeeper? You know he's a dealer, right? He's about as much of a jackass as he is useless."

She was referring to Todd Williams, an unemployed junkie who claimed to have his housekeeping android turn on him before running away. He was on their ever growing list of deviant cases.

"We haven't had a chance to talk to him yet, but I'm not surprised. His neighborhood practically screams red ice," Hank commented.

Now it was Connor's turn to push things forward. "You were saying about Spades?" He asked Andy.

"Spades was the only big dealer left. A lot of interstate connections, couple of guys down in Mexico. We never found him or his people, but there were a lot of buyers throwing his AKA around," She told him.

Nodding, Hank glanced to Connor, saying, "We started to think he was a red herring just meant to throw us off the real guys."

Andy turned almost smug. She straightened a little more in her seat, and with a small smirk, she said, "Well, he wasn't."

This was new information for Hank, who finally took the bait she'd been dangling in front of him all night. Curiously, he asked, "No shit?"

She nodded, saying, "Real as us. Name's Nick Weaver, and I've been working with him since last Christmas."

Last Christmas? That was huge. This Nick Weaver was the one guy they could never find. He may not have been a part of the task force anymore, but you'd think  _ someone _ at the precinct would have filled him in every once in a while. "Why the hell didn't Richards tell me any of this?"

With a scoff, Andy asked, "Do I look like Richards to you?" She didn't give him a chance to continue, instead adding, "Anyway, I've been trying to get his list of contacts, but it hasn't been easy. He's only got about three people he trusts with that sort of thing."

"Then how'd you get in?" Connor inquired.

Another shift of her mood had Andy grinning at him. She cocked her head, winked, and mused, "My good looks and infectious personality."

Connor reeled back, taken aback by the response.  _ A wink. A positive gesture. Pleasant. _ His LED cycled through a faint yellow before going back to blue, and he struggled to make sense of the woman in front of him. Could nothing around Hank be simple?

Hank watched him a moment with a confused scowl. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the android detective was being  _ bashful. _ "Stop flustering the robot and get on with the story, Andy."

Back into work mode she went. "One of his people started supplying a lot more than usual a couple weeks ago, right around the time all this really blew up. Not just red ice, either. The guy sold Weaver a couple of barely activated androids."

A supplier had to get his inventory from somewhere. No warehouses or holding facilities had been broken into recently, which meant they were all taken from the street. Maybe not every case they were investigating were about deviants, but rather about theft. "Were they deviant?" Connor asked.

She shrugged, saying, "Didn't look it to me, but I didn't exactly get a chance to have a chat with them before Weaver sent them off as payment to some friends he owed." The smug expression came back to her as she went on, "But I did some digging, and I have a name."

"Well, great," Hank pressed, "What is it?"

"Andronikov."


	2. Deviants and Drug Dealers

 

** November 6, 2038 **

 

Two days and numerous discussions with Captain Fowler later, and the Special Investigations Division was combining their red ice case with Hank's deviancy work. This meant sharing files and resources, which included the new android detective Andy had been hearing about from her handler all week.

He was stiff, according to the reports Lieutenant Richards had, but he was also very effective at his job. She heard a little about the FBI work Connor had been doing since August, and then there was the android hiding in the attic of Carlos Ortiz -- that one particularly caught her attention, considering Ortiz was a face she'd seen almost regularly for the past five years.

She was close to getting the last piece of the puzzle against Nick Weaver, and if anything could help her, it would be CyberLife's prototype detective. Helping Hank was a bonus.

"Zlatko Adronikov. Aged forty-seven, six feet tall, 198 pounds. He was in prison for embezzlement and fraud, but there are no narcotics charges."

The android himself sat in the passenger's seat of Hank's Oldsmobile, reading off a file from the records he was allowed access to by the department. He was a walking encyclopedia, and Andy was almost jittery with excitement from that idea.

She sat in the backseat, ankle hooked on her knee. They were minutes from Andronikov's home, and if luck would have it, a warrant would be approved any minute before they arrived. "The guy hides out in his place all day. Sends droids out to do all his errands, tries to keep bystanders off the property. He's private," She described, resting an elbow on the door beside her.

From the driver's seat, Hank scoffed and threw her a glance over his shoulder. " _I'm _ private. This guy's just scummy."

Andy smirked, asking, "So what's the plan?"

"Connor and I talk to the guy. We hand him the warrant when we get it."

That was not the answer she was hoping to get. If they did things her way, they wouldn't even need the warrant. Leaning forward, she pointed to him and offered, "Alternative idea."

"No," He replied immediately. She spoke with a tone he'd heard many times since she joined the force, and this was an argument he'd been expecting.

She would have been lying if she said there was a deep, emotional reason for her frustration. There wasn't. She was simply impatient, and being this close to Andronikov's property -- this close to wrapping up her case -- had her antsy. "I'll be brief," She claimed, almost petulantly.

Hank sighed. "We've already been over this with Richards. You're not endangering your narcotics work for this case-- and you may not remember this, but you were also  _ stabbed _ recently?"

"It's a flesh wound," She dismissed his comment, waving a hand toward Connor, "Robo Doc over here even said so."

Connor was quick to interject. "I'm not a doctor," He corrected, looking up to the rear-view mirror to see her in the backseat. "However, I agree with the lieutenant. Your injury may slow you down or raise suspicion, and the state of your mission now directly affects ours."

Hank sat a little straighter, feeling smug. He glanced to Andy, musing, "See?  _ Robo Doc _ agrees with me."

She looked between them with a bewildered expression. Convincing Hank to ease up was one thing -- she'd done it before. But an  _ android _ ? That was another ballgame entirely, and she doubted he would bend will as easily as the ones Weaver moved in and out of his place. She scoffed, resting her cheek against her fist and muttering under her breath, "Now who's getting tag-teamed?" 

The car fell into silence after that. Andy hated silence. She bobbed her knee up and down as she tried to wait it out, but soon found herself caving.

"So, hey, I'm curious," She started, looking at the back of Connor's head, "You're not like any other models I've seen."

"You around a lot of androids?" Hank asked. He sounded less interested and more irritable about the topic. Andy knew about his distaste for AI, but she also wondered if he was just tired of the curiosity surrounding Connor. 

"Weaver keeps 'em around like they're trophies. He likes to swap out his housekeepers once a month, says he gets tired of the same faces," She shrugged, her expression twisting into something resembling disgust. She let it sit for a brief moment, and then lightened. "Never seen anyone like Connor, though."

Connor nodded as though this was obvious. To him, it was. "I'm an advanced prototype designed by CyberLife. There's no model like me on the market."

He was the first of his kind. Having him on her case was an opportunity not many would ever get -- not that many would want it. Half the department had to be spinning with Connor's arrival. 

Hank pulled up to a curb and parked as she mused, "Bet the whole android detective thing's got to be popular around the precinct."

Whether he noticed the sarcasm or not, Connor informed her, "On the contrary, many officers I've met so far have been quite hesitant of me." He looked into the rear-view mirror, and caught her staring. " _ Your _ disposition toward me has been a new experience, however."

At this, she smirked and joked, "I like to keep people on their toes."

A snort broke from Hank's throat. Before Andy could call him out on his response, Connor was speaking again, his LED flashing yellow. "Our warrant arrived."

"About time," Hank complained. Hearing a car door open behind him, he held an arm out to stop Andy from leaving. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

She stopped and looked at him as though it was obvious. To her, it was. "To search the house."

This was also something Hank was expecting. It'd been half a day and already she needed supervision. "With this asshole still in there? No, I don't think so. You sit here until I come to get you," He ordered her as he opened his own door. Pointing at her to stress his next words, he said, "That's an order."

She held up her hands defensively. "Did I argue?"

"You were thinkin' about it," He grumbled back, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind him.

Connor followed after the lieutenant, and met with the man on the sidewalk beside the car. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Andy slouch in the backseat. "I'm doubtful of Detective Hope's willingness to follow that order, Lieutenant."

Hank pulled at the collar of his jacket as he started to walk forward. "Yeah, get in line." 

* * *

The Andronikov estate had seen better days. As Hank and Connor walked through the wrought iron fence that was missing half its length around the property, Connor took quick note of the boarded up windows, the abandoned yard, and the tarp covering various holes in the roof. It would seem after the last of his relatives passed, Zlatko failed to continue any of the maintenance.

This certainly wasn't for a lack of help, considering the significant amount of thirium Connor could see trailing across the walkway in the front yard. The blue blood of androids was vibrant against the concrete, and it mixed in with human blood splattering the middle of the yard.

Connor stopped to kneel down and run a finger through the blood. He brought his finger to his tongue, stirring disgust from Hank. The lieutenant grimaced and turned away, complaining, "Ugh, here I thought you were getting  _ less _ unbearable to work with."

It was a comment Connor dismissed as usual irritability. He let his sensors scan the blood and looked up once he had a name. "It belongs to Andronikov."

"Least we know we're in the right place," Hank offered with a shrug. Despite the casual tone, he faced the house with a new tension in his shoulders, and his hand hovered near his firearm.

Connor stood to catch up to him, adding, "There's also quite a bit of thirium. I doubt it all belongs to one unit."

At the top of the stairs, Hank reached out and rapped his knuckles on the door. "Detroit Police Department!" He yelled out, glancing to the windows nearby.

No one was coming to answer them. The blood and thirium were enough for Hank to enter the premises even without a warrant, and so he tried to open the door. It was unsurprising to find it locked.

Connor was getting impatient. He moved away from the front of the house and approached a nearby window. Stretching up to peer inside the home, he could see blood of both kinds on the floor and the railing of the stairs in the foyer. His eyes followed it to a doorway, where he spotted a pair of feet peaking out from the room.

"Lieutenant."

Connor's urgent inflection caught Hank's attention. He joined him in the yard and looked through the window, seeing everything for himself. "Shit," He swore under his breath before rushing back to the door. He retrieved his gun before he finished climbing the steps, and a swift kick against the wood had the lock shattering and the door bursting open.

"Anrdonikov?" Hank called out, entering the home with a careful eye on his surroundings.

Connor rushed in behind him and went for the den, where Zlatko Andronikov lay on the floor. He approached the body, kneeling down to check for a pulse that wasn't there. His eyes scanned Zlatko's back, taking in the tears in his clothing and the markings on his arms.

_ Bruises and gashes. Small cuts, but nothing fatal. Beaten to death. Thirium laced with his own blood. Beaten by androids. _

Rolling him over, Connor picked up one of his hands, bringing it closer.

_ Thirium stains on his hand, present longer than the rest of it. Confirms android tampering. _

As Connor went through his examinations, Hank was moving around the first floor, checking each room and finding mostly layers of dust and cobwebs. He neared the stairs in the foyer, glancing up to the second floor and then down at the stairs leading to the basement. A light flickered from around the corner, and he could see droplets of blood on the steps.

Hank glanced up to the den where Connor was working. Andronikov was dead -- he would have heard from his partner otherwise. Confident that Connor could handle himself on this floor, Hank went downstairs.

Whatever Hank expected to find down there, it wasn't  _ that _ . Cages lined the right wall, locks on the doors to them having been broken. Androids piled up in the corners of them, deactivated and in several pieces. It was the sight of nightmares, no matter your opinion of the victims.

He neared the end of the hallway, which veered off to the left in another room. Before he could reach it and investigate further, the door of the last cage was thrown open. It pushed into him and knocked him off his balance, and as he caught himself, he saw an android halfway to the stairs.

"Hey! Freeze!"

On the first floor, Connor's head shot up when he heard Hank's yell. A second later, an android had made his way upstairs. He stumbled to a stop when he found Connor in the doorway, but quickly took off out of the house. Connor wasted no time in giving chase, and he could hear Hank not far behind.

The deviant escaped down a side path, and into the trees behind the house. Connor remained on his trail, weaving around the forestry that had been left to grow untamed. Branches whipped against his arms and sides, but his goal was catching the runner no more than ten feet away from him. When the deviant veered right, Connor immediately did the same, hoping to cut him off before they reached the edge of the trees. 

Just outside of this small woodlands was a main road, and that was not far from the regular traffic of the city. If the deviant could reach that, he had a chance to get away for good. Where he would go afterward with his skin disabled and numerous panels across his body missing, he had no idea -- he just needed to get there first.

He broke through the border of trees and gave himself a brief second to collect himself and discern his location. If he ran back toward the estate, maybe he could throw them off his trail just enough to give him time. He turned down the sidewalk with the new plan in mind, but ground to a halt.

Connor jumped out onto the sidewalk behind him, skidding to a stop when he found the deviant standing nearby. In front of him was Andy, her gun raised against the escaped android. Connor slowly approached as Hank stumbled his own way through the weeds.

The lieutenant knelt over, hands to his knees. "I thought I told you to stay in the damn car!" Were his first words, a scolding glare in Andy's direction.

Her gun lowered as they surrounded the deviant, who looked between them like a wild animal, waiting to lash out. She scowled at Hank, stressing, "You're  _ welcome? _ "

Before Hank could continue into what would have turned into a lecture, Connor delivered a compliment. "Thank you, Detective Hope. Excellent work."

At this, Andy beamed, her chest puffing out and her chin tilting upward.  _ A smile and a nod. Proud of the recognition. My opinion pleases her. _

Hank gave a loud scoff to break through the moment and threw his hands up, reaching for the deviant. "Let's just get this thing into the house before someone recognizes you."

Hearing mention of Andronikov's home, the deviant finally snapped. "No!" He cried, turning to bolt past Connor and Hank. The men jumped after him, grabbing hold and pulling on him. He thrashed against their grip, but they were both stronger than him, and he found himself being tossed back into the middle of the trio.

"Hey, hey, whoa!" Hank yelled as he held up a hand toward the deviant. He retrieved handcuffs from his pocket and tossed them to Andy, who stepped up to the android.

"Don't take me back there! I'll go anywhere else, just not there!" His eyes were wide and he shifted his weight from one foot to the next, ready to attempt another escape the second he saw an opening. He jumped as Andy grabbed his arm, but let her handcuff him without any trouble.

_ Violent reaction to mention of the Andronikov Estate. Fear. Andronikov is already dead. Fear of something else. _

Connor's brows furrowed as he starting playing through what the deviant's distress could mean. "Where are the other androids?"

Hank perked up in mild panic. "What?"

"There was too much thirium in that house for just you, and it was recent. Where are the other androids?" Connor pressed louder, leaning toward the deviant to emphasize the urgency.

The deviant started to shake his head. He was hesitant, but also insistent in his denial. "No. No, it's-- it's just me. It's just me."

Having looked between the group in front of her, Andy suggested, "They're still in the house."

Connor began to reply, but the deviant stepped away from him, expecting to be grabbed again. "No! Nothing's in that house, not anymore! Nothing but that bastard's corpse!" His gaze lowered to the sidewalk, and for a moment, he went still. "I'm alone," He mumbled quietly, as if just realizing it.

_ Expression indicating sorrow. This answer seems honest. _

"Then where did they go?" Connor asked him.

Anguish changed to frustration as the deviant looked up with a scowl. "I don't know-- There was a man-- He--" He stopped himself, eyes drifting past them. 

Connor turned to see what caught the android's attention. A truck was several yards away, driving down the road in their direction. From behind him, he heard the deviant whisper, "I can't go back."

_ Muttered in desperate declaration. Desperate. Self-destruction. _

By the time Connor realized what was happening, the deviant had already lunged for the street. Andy still had a hold, so when he ran for it, the momentum yanked on Andy's arms. She kicked a foot back to counter him and attempted to pull him away from the street, but the two quickly stumbled over the edge of the curb.

Connor ran forward and wrapped an arm around Andy's torso. He put his full weight into pushing her to the sidewalk, perhaps hoping it would also drag the deviant back, but the deviant broke free of Andy's grasp. Connor and Andy fell several steps back across the pavement, and only a beat passed before the truck slammed full force into the deviant, managing to come to a slow stop seconds later.

* * *

The trio performed one last search through Andronikov's home and waited for CSI to take over before they left. It was a tense ride to the precinct, and even Andy had settled into silence. 

Andronikov was dead, and that meant a lot of things for the department. He was Hank's best shot at finding not just individual rogue androids but figuring out where they were all coming from and  _ how _ . He was just as big a catch for Andy, who'd been counting on Andronikov's own criminal charges to sway him into helping her take down the rest of Weaver's network.

They now sat around Hank's desk, each of them pondering the day's events. To say there was a gloom hanging above them would have been an understatement.

"How is your injury?" Hank and Andy tuned back in to their surroundings. Connor was looking at Andy, and he gestured to her abdomen when she faced him.

She shrugged, lowering into the swivel chair she stole from another desk. "Well I didn't get run over, so I could be worse," She replied.

Connor hesitated a moment, then said, "I apologize for not being quicker. I should have stopped the android before it ever put you in risk of that."

"What?" She laughed a little and assured him, "That wasn't criticism. You did fine, Doc."

"I'm an advanced prototype. My work needs to be more than just  _ fine_," He argued. Shooting her one last glance, he corrected, "Also, I'm not a doctor."

Andy ignored the last comment and crossed her arms. She couldn't deny what he was saying was true, but she also knew how chaotic the job could be. "All cases have variables. You can't win 'em all."

Connor wasn't buying it. That may have been the case for humans or the patrol androids the department used, but he had to be held to a higher standard. So far he'd had two deviants escape his custody, and if you included the work of his previous model, Connor was looking more to be a defective prototype than advanced technology ready for the market. "That's precisely what I'm meant to do. I knew it was erratic and in distress, which meant self destruction was probable. I should have acted accordingly," He spoke, more to himself than anything.

"He was going to find a way no matter what you did," Andy stretched her legs out, which pushed her chair further away from their desks. "That's the thing about people, Doc - we're determined and nonsensical."

Now she simply had to be testing him, both with the inaccurate nickname and the comparison between androids and people. With a faint frown, he said, "We weren't dealing with a human, Detective Hope. It was a machine."

"I'd say 'erratic and in distress' is less machine than it is human, wouldn't you?" She squared off, a brow quirking in curiosity.

"Are you two done?"

They straightened, looking over to the lieutenant who was scowling at them both. Connor leaned back in his seat, trying to collect himself and move on from the conversation that was brewing moments ago. Andy's reaction was more nonchalant; she shot Hank an amused grin and asked, "Don't like our charming banter? I'm shocked."

"Smartass," He muttered back. Dropping a pen he'd been tapping on his desk, he pushed things along. "What the hell do we do now? That asshole had nothing in his estate that helped us understand what's going on or where deviants are running off to."

"I might be able to help with that."

Hank turned his chair and Andy looked at the man who approached the trio. He stood with salt and pepper hair, a black coat over a dark polo, and a cup of coffee in his hand.

_ Harvey Richards, lieutenant at the Detroit Police Department, Special Investigations Division. Thirty years of service. Dark circles. Light stubble. Slept in those clothes, likely in his office. An old wedding ring. _

"Harvey," Hank nodded in greeting.

Richards returned the gesture, and looked down at Andy in her chair. "Don't stand on my account, Hope," He remarked.

"Wasn't plannin' on it," She quipped.

He huffed, but didn't appear offended. Finally his attention landed on Connor, and he gestured toward the android with his cup. "So this is the legendary prototype, huh?"

Connor nodded and introduced himself. "Hello. My name is Connor. You must be Harvey Richards."

Richards tilted his head and offered a small wave of confirmation. Hank cleared his throat, asking, "You said you could help us?"

"I said might," Richards stressed, "I have an idea on how to find those androids from Andronikov's place."

"Yeah?"

Richards pointed to Andy, telling her, "But first, you and I need to discuss it in my office."

Andy's brows shot up and with renewed vigor, she slapped her hands on the armrests and jumped out of her chair. "Confidential meetings. My favorite kind," She mused before following after Richards.

"Andy!" Hank sat up, waving to catch her attention. When she looked back, he pointed to her and said, "Nothing stupid."

Another cheesy grin flashed on her face. "Stupid's my middle name," She replied before disappearing around the corner.

Connor's brows furrowed at that. He turned to Hank with the question clear as day on his face, and with closed eyes, Hank quickly shook his head no. Together they watched Andy enter an office to the side of the bullpen, and they were left to quietly wait - and hope - for good news from SID.


	3. Thieves and Daughters

 

**November 7, 2038 **

 

Captain Jeffrey Fowler sat against the edge of his desk, looking between the two people in front of him. Lieutenant Richards waited in a guest chair and maintained a relaxed demeanor, elbows on the armrests. Behind him stood Andy with arms crossed, weight shifting from one foot to the other.

The two had spent the rest of the night prior discussing a plan to close in on Nick Weaver. With what evidence CSI gathered from the crime scene and the behavior of the one deviant they found in the home, Richards believed Weaver was responsible for Andronikov's missing androids. If they could find Weaver's cache, they would likely find any number of deviants to investigate for Hank's case. Armed with this, they arrived to work early the next morning to speak with Fowler, who sat quietly as they went over every last detail.

"And what do you think about this idea?" Fowler asked Andy.

She shrugged. "I took the red ice gig for a reason. If this can help Anderson and close out the task force's case, I don't see why we shouldn't do it."

As the man responsible for the precinct, Fowler could see plenty of reasons not to do it. The time and resources alone would have to be approved by the Chief -- not to mention they'd need an android. That being said, deviants were fast becoming one of Detroit's biggest problems, and red ice already was. Fowler didn't want to admit he saw both turning into widescale federal cases if he didn't put a stop to them soon.

He nodded and said, "All right, then we'll get the necessary warrants and... find us an android."

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation, and Fowler waved the man into his office. Chris Miller stepped inside and spoke to the captain. "There was a break-in at the Cyberlife Warehouses, Sir."

As if things couldn't get worse. "Jesus Christ! Just what we need," Fowler yelled, pushing himself up to his feet. He waved toward Andy as he moved around his desk, ordering, "Hope, get out there with Hank. This might be deviants, this might be red ice - who the fuck can tell the difference these days?"

* * *

By the time Hank reached the CyberLife warehouses with Andy and Connor, Ben had already brought in his team to tape off the area. They centered around the entrance of the warehouses, near the control room and the loading bay. Crates sat under the bay, their lids removed and their contents missing. A busted drone was several yards away, pieces of it scattered across the asphalt.

The moment they left Hank's car, Connor was off on his own. Hank and Andy watched him kneel over the drone as they approached the loading bay. Ben stood nearby and met them halfway when he spotted them. "Hey, Hank. Good to see you, Andy."

Andy nodded to him, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "You too."

"So what have we got?" Hank asked as he looked past Ben's shoulder.

Ben turned and gestured to the crates behind him, "Not much, aside from a busted drone, a screwdriver in the server, and a missing android."

Andy walked up to the boxes, leaning forward to look inside each of them. Many had indentions in the foam to hold various replacement parts, namely arms and legs. A few appeared to once contain bags of thirium. She looked toward him with a small, surprised chuckle. "Just the one?"

"Oh, there were more, but there was one on patrol last night. Security said he heard it call but when he got there, it was gone. Everything looked normal so he went back to his station," Ben explained.

It didn't make sense. Next to androids, CyberLife was known for its rigid security systems. They had a private guard, top of the line cameras, and alarm systems Hank likely didn't know existed. "How'd they even get this far without being caught?"

Ben pointed to the line of shipping containers on the other side of the lot. "Probably from the overhead. They jumped container to container until they landed here."

Hank frowned. "And no one heard that shit?" 

There was a pause from Ben, who didn't know what to say. "It was raining?" He offered with an uncertain shrug.

"What about the control room?" Andy questioned, rejoining them.

"Two guards were posted. They said they heard a crash and then the power went out. They didn't see a thing until they noticed one of the moving trucks driving off the lot."

With an annoyed scoff, Hank asked, "You mean to tell me these guys got away without ever being seen? By  _ anybody _ ?"

Ben nodded and said, "They knew where they were going and how they were doing it - whoever they were, they were prepared."

As Connor approached the group, Andy looked to him. The drone had long since lost what power remained, and the ends of wires peaked out from the bottom of its wings. "How was the drone destroyed?" She asked him.

Hank and Ben turned to Connor, who answered, "It was ripped apart. They caught it in their hands and used brute force." Nodding toward the shipping containers, he added, "They jumped down on top of it from up there."

"All right," Hank started before nodding to the CSI officer in front of him, "Thanks, Ben." 

With the initial briefing finished, he headed for the control room. Andy ran to catch up to him and Connor wasn't far behind. "This was definitely not dealers. They'd take the thirium and the androids, not replacement parts," Andy suggested.

Hank pulled the door to the control room open, replying, "Yeah, I doubt they'd do it this well, either."

The control room was intact for the most part, save for the screwdriver stuck inside a broken server to the left of the room. In front of the large windows facing the entrance was the operation desk, where two employees nervously sat. At the far end of the room was another employee, pacing back and forth behind two officers blocking his path. 

A third officer was taking photos of the server, and Hank paused to watch her for a moment. "Bet that's gonna take CyberLife a couple days," He commented, eying the shards of glass and metal on the floor.

From the other side of the room, the anxious employee finally stopped. He faced them and yelled over the officers' shoulders, "It'd only take me a few hours if your thugs let me near the servers!"

Hank grimaced. Whoever the young man was, he wasn't in the mood to deal with him. Looking to Andy, the lieutenant muttered, "Take care of that, will ya?"

"Yup." Andy pulled a hand from her pocket and slapped it to Connor's arm, telling him, "Come with me."

Connor wasn't sure why she requested it, but he followed after her regardless. "I'm with you, Detective."

The two walked up the CyberLife tech. Andy nodded to the officers standing in front of him, and they backed away, allowing her to speak to him in peace. "What's your name?" She asked him.

He let out a heavy sigh and crossed his arms, but answered, "Jim Whitman."

Andy grinned as if he hadn't made it obvious he found her presence offensive. "Well, Jim, the time it takes for us to finish this investigation directly correlates to how cooperative CyberLife decides to be. You getting on that server anytime soon is entirely up to you."

"I'm just a maintenance technician. I wasn't even here last night," He argued.

Pointing a thumb over her shoulder to the two guards at the desk, she told him, "Pretty sure you've got more clearance than they do."

She was right, and Jim's clenched jaw told her as much. "What do you want?"

Before she answered, Connor did. "We want the security footage from last night," He said. While he easily could have accessed that information on his own, whether CyberLife would be willing to share it with the Detroit police was another matter.

Jim shook his head. "I'm not at liberty to hand that out," He told them, a deep furrow setting in his brow.

That wasn't enough to stop Andy, who quirked an annoyingly smug brow as she pulled her phone from her pocket. "Then I guess you should call someone who is before I do--" She paused to look up at Jim and shake her phone for emphasis, "And heads up? Mine will have a gavel and flowy black robe."

"CyberLife sent me to help the police on cases like this one, Mister Whitman. You won't be reprimanded for following my request," Connor assured the man.

Glancing between them, Jim grew more and more tense. With a detective staring him down and a CyberLife prototype backing her up, he found himself with little choice. He started to fidget, until finally rolling his eyes and caving on the demand. "Fine, I'll call the office."

Andy slipped her phone into her pocket and turned away. "Nice work," She whispered to the android beside her.

Connor looked down at her. He could distinctly make out a faint bounce to her step and a new brightness to her eyes since they arrived at the scene. It was an energy that was either overwhelming or infectious depending on who it was aimed at, and he almost smiled before he cut off the thought and followed Andy to meet with Hank.

"...And then we saw the truck taking off," One of the employees said, wrapping up his account of the previous night's events.

Hank stood in front of them, equal parts unimpressed and skeptical. "Did you see who was driving?" He asked.

The employee shook his head. "It was dark, and-- and it happened so fast."

Andy spoke up, asking them, "Are there trackers in the moving trucks?"

"Normally, but they disabled it in the one they took," The other employee answered.

Hank sighed and turned his back toward them. "Of course they did," He muttered under his breath.

A few feet away, Jim Whitman approached them while hanging up his phone, catching the attention of the detectives. "We'll send you all the footage from last night," He then gestured to the server in the corner, "Now can I please do my job?" 

* * *

After they returned to the precinct, Connor went straight to his desk to open the footage from CyberLife. Hank and Andy let him work as they went to the kitchen. Andy poured a cup of coffee for herself before joining Hank against the opposite side of the column he stood beside. He'd been watching Connor at the desk, thinking about the past few days, when Andy spoke.

"What's he doing?"

Hank glanced to her and said, "Watching the security footage that CyberLife tech sent over."

Her brows went up in mild surprise, and it was only partly because of how hot her coffee was. "That's  _ hours _ of footage."

"And Connor's an android," Hank remarked, holding up his own cup as he snorted. "Convenient."

At this, she went quiet. She stared at Hank and went through a very similar thought process he just had. It'd been a long time since she saw Hank -- it was before the accident. Richards warned her a few years prior that he'd let himself go a little, so the drinking and the beard and the gruffer attitude didn't surprise her. When she squinted, she could even see the old lieutenant in there somewhere. What really threw her for a loop was what appeared to be a growing affection for the android detective sitting in the bullpen.

Sighing, Hank tilted to his head to meet her stare. It was annoyed and impatient, and she was pretty sure she could see a bit of nerves. Maybe he didn't want her thinking too much about the state of him.

"What?"

Andy wouldn't share her thoughts today. Instead she shrugged and looked back to Connor. "Just thinking."

Hank paused a moment, taking in a deep, frustrated breath. "Don't suppose you want to share?" He asked, his tone flat and void of any actual curiosity.

Bringing her cup to her lips, Andy spoke into her coffee, "You seem friendly with your new partner."

He scoffed. "We're just working a case," He dismissed, not willing to talk about the roller coaster that had been his partnership yet.

"You're working pretty  _ amicably_, is all I'm sayin'," She replied with a coy smirk.

"Shut up."

The conversation ended there, as Connor stepped around the divider by his desk and called out, "Lieutenant. I found something." When they moved from the kitchen, he lead them to his desk as he started, "The deviants mostly managed to avoid detection until they neared the control room."

He sat down at his desk, and they came up behind him a moment later. On the screen of his terminal was a paused section of security footage from the warehouse, facing out to the loading bay.

"You said they were deviants, though, so you know for sure?" Andy asked.

He turned his head to look up at her, and she almost chuckled at the speed of his movement and the wide eyes. She'd daresay he was excited, and if she had to describe it, she'd compare his expression to one of a puppy. No wonder Hank was getting attached.

"I do," Connor replied, moving the footage along the timeline.

There were four deviants. Three were filling empty bags with the contents of the crates, and the fourth was drawing in on the patrol android who watched them work. He grabbed the arm of the android and without doing much more than that, the android reeled in a sudden confusion. The apparent leader pulled away and climbed over the ledge of the platform, opening a larger crate that Andy remembered having full android-shaped indentions.

Connor changed the scene to another camera. This one was positioned inside the control room, and it was on a slow rotation to span the width of the room. It only gave them brief glimpses, but it was more than enough. The leader sneaked into the room, crouched and careful not to alert the employees no more than twenty feet away. He grabbed the closest tool he could find -- a screwdriver -- and plunged it into the servers. That was the end of the footage altogether.

Hank nudged him in the shoulder and pointed at the terminal, saying, "Rewind that."

Andy put her cup on the desk and placed a hand down, leaning forward to get a closer look of the footage. The proximity to Connor had him lean back in his chair, but she was unaware of his movements as she stared at the paused screen of an android she'd never seen before.

"What model is he?" She asked, examining the unique features. Was it just the quality of the video, or did he have two different colored eyes?

Connor adjusted his chair further away from the desk and said, "It's a unique model. There's none like it on the market."

Andy looked to him, and finally realized what he was doing. She straightened and went for her coffee while asking, "Can you look into what android this is with CyberLife?"

"I could try to, yes," Connor replied, relaxing a bit.

"Anderson! Hope!" The three of them turned to see Fowler standing in the doorway of his office. He nodded to Connor, adding, "And bring the android." 

The sight of Richards already standing in the office told Andy all she needed. "This is gonna be fun," She mumbled. Connor glanced to her, finding her tone not at all believable.

* * *

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Connor understood why now.

They finished going over Richards' plan to stop Weaver. If not executed perfectly, it would no doubt backfire on the department. Connor recognized a dozen different ways it could fail, but he also knew the circumstances and the skill level of the officers in the room with him. They stood just as big a chance at succeeding, and if they did, it would have been the break he sorely needed. It would also put Andy in a risky position, which he believed is where most of Hank's opposition was rooted.

Fowler looked to be in less of a mood to argue with anyone than Hank looked to be willing to entertain the idea. "Does this look like a comedy club to you?" He asked before pointing to Richards, "And need I remind you that you're not Detective Hope's handler anymore? You gave up that authority when you left the task force."

"Left the task force? That's not how I remember it," Hank yelled back.

"You really wanna go there with me right now, Hank?" Fowler asked. He glared at the man in front of him, biting, "Because I can sure as hell tell you how I remember it."

It was like an old, deep wound they both harbored was getting pulled at, and Andy was glad she stationed herself as close to the door as she could. Richards cleared his throat, holding up a hand to cut the argument off where it was and get everyone back on track. "Nick Weaver was on the phone with Andronikov the night he was killed, and we know Weaver sends off defect androids to his suppliers," He began.

Hank angrily spat back, "Great, go arrest the piece of shit!"

Andy wasn't sure why she was choosing then to step in, but she did. "I know where he lives, not where he keeps his supply," She defended her squad lieutenant.

"If we arrest him now, we're not getting any other information out of him," Richards explained in a calm but stern voice he usually saved for panicking victims or fresh recruits. "We need to know what we're dealing with, and that's only going to happen if we send her in on one last job."

"You mean send her out to the damn wolves," Hank argued.

Now it was Andy's turn to feel slighted. "I've been out with the wolves for five years," She complained with an irritated scowl.

He turned to face her, a retort at the ready. "Yeah and you end up covering  _ my _ kitchen floor in blood."

"She's not your daughter, Hank!"

The office went silent. Andy looked down at her feet, wishing she could just phase through the glass walls behind her and leave. Hank turned to Fowler, who had stood from his desk to emphasize the severity of his outburst. The two men glared at each other, not as coworkers but as old friends, each of them thoroughly fed up with the other.

Fowler slammed a hand down on his desk. He pushed his chair away as he moved around to stand in front of everyone. "I don't know when this turned into a goddamn family sitcom for you people, but for everyone else, this is a precinct with two related problems on its hands and one person who can put herself in the middle of it without everything immediately going to shit," He scolded, waving an open hand toward Andy.

He took in a breath and exhaled, attempting to calm himself and finish only the third most annoying meeting of his day. "Richards and Hope have decided on this plan, so it's what we're doing. Now get the hell out of my office."

He retreated to his desk as the group shuffled out into the bullpen. Richards was fast after a still angry Hank who was marching toward his own desk. 

"I can't believe this shit."

"Hank--"

Hank stopped, rounding on Richards. He pointed at the SID lieutenant, towering over him. "You were supposed to watch over her, Harvey. If they find out who she is--"

"That's gonna happen anyway, Hank!" Richards yelled.

From where Andy and Connor stood at the edge of the scene, Andy now counted herself one of the actual few to witness Richards raise his voice like that. She  _ very _ quickly decided that she  _ very _ much did not like it.

Richards didn't care for it either, and he cleared his throat so he could try to lighten the mood. "And who knows? It's going to take us a few days to get all the warrants, and Weaver's guys might not even sell him out so maybe you'll have it figured out by then," He said, closing in on Hank to lean forward and tell him, "I know you're concerned. Just trust me, all right?" 

When Hank didn't respond, Richards knew this was up to Andy and time. He nodded to her as he walked away, leaving her and Connor with the fuming man.

"When you said your middle name was stupid, you really went for it," Hank commented with a shake of his head and a brief glance in Andy's direction.

Now it was her turn to handle him, so she sighed and moved away from Connor to stand near Hank. "Weaver trusts me. Obviously one of his contacts do too or we wouldn't have found Andronikov in the first place. No one is more suited to find these androids than I am. That doesn't sound stupid to me," She explained.

Hank rolled his eyes and turned away, picking his coffee up from his desk. 

She moved closer, urging him to admit he was overreacting. "You brought me onto that task force for a reason, Hank. You trained me yourself. I'm  _ good_," She stressed before getting an idea. Turning to face Connor, she crossed her arms beside Hank and asked, "Why don't we see what the doc thinks?"

Her words caught both men's attention. Hank looked back, and Connor soon found their gazes landing square on him. Even as an android, he felt his body tense up and his social programming go into overdrive. 

His eyes shifted to Hank.  _ Dark circles, furrowed brows, slight scowl. Signs of exhaustion, frustration. Prolonged eye contact. He's pleading? _

He moved on to Andy next.  _ Crossed arms, relaxed shoulders, chin upward. Lips pursed, holding her breath. Trying to look more confident than she is. _

Connor had not been a sympathetic partner. 

It had still only been a week since he worked alone. But Hank Anderson -- and Andrea Hope -- were different. Somewhere in his programming, through the deviant hunting and the CyberLife loyalties, was a desire for them to like him. Weighing that against everything else was proving to be a challenge more difficult than he would be willing to admit.

"I think Detective Hope seems competent at her job," He started on shaky ground, and he had to ignore Hank's less than favorable reaction of turning away, as though scolding himself for expecting any different. "Depending on how many androids Andronikov was storing in his basement, we could be presented with a database of deviants to investigate should this plan prove successful."

At this comment, Hank pointed to him and said, "Should.  _ Should _ this plan prove successful. That right there, Connor, is what this whole argument's about."

"The probability of the detective dying on this job is only slightly higher than if she were undercover normally," Connor attempted to argue. Immediately after having said it, he realized it may not have been the best choice. 

Hank confirmed this with a roll of his eyes and a snort. "Slightly."

Beside him, Andy's eyes seemed to glaze over. She was no longer looking at Connor and instead staring off into space. Finally she broke her silence, saying, "This is the first week I've been in the precinct in five years." 

Hank's expression was unreadable to Connor. The lieutenant turned to face her, perhaps scanning her in a similar way to what Connor had done moments earlier.

"If I could bring Spades in? Really get the last big dealer in Detroit off the streets?" She turned toward Hank and shrugged. "Then I'm done. No more undercover. Back to working in an office with windows and not hiding my badge in a sink. Back to doing what I did today."

Connor's memory drifted to the warehouse, when she was investigating a crime scene and talking to witnesses. He thought to the excitement he saw on her face. It was pleasant. Nothing like how she was holding herself now.

"I'm tired, Hank. This is my ticket out," She confessed.

Glancing to Hank, Connor noted the struggle going on in the man's mind. "Shit...," He sighed out. "Why didn't you just say that to begin with? We can talk to Fowler, get you transferred--"

"I'm not looking for a transfer. I just want to feel like a damn cop again," Andy interrupted.

There was an extended pause between the group as Hank gave the idea a chance in his head. Much like with him and Fowler, there was a wound getting tugged on here, too, and Hank was not the kind of man to address those problems. Before he could spiral too deeply, he nodded. "Then let's get this asshole off the streets."

They no doubt had forgotten about his presence by now, but Connor watched them both. He took a small step forward, interrupting their moment to say, "I would like to be the android you take with you."

Once again, their attentions landed on him. If they were going to keep doing that, he was going to have to tune his social programming.

"What, really?" Andy asked, surprised. He nodded, and she continued, "Is CyberLife cool with that?"

"CyberLife designed me to hunt deviants. That's what I'm doing," He answered. It was true. Technically.

After a moment, she shrugged. "All right. I'll see what Richards thinks," She replied, reaching across his desk for her coffee.

Nothing more was said as she left the bullpen, going into SID's office. Hank stared at Connor, who was attempting to pretend he didn't notice. The lieutenant turned and took slow steps forward, stopping beside him. "You keep an eye on her."

Connor looked to Hank, and nodded. "I promise you I will, Lieutenant."

Hank leaned back, eying the android with a puzzled expression. He finally broke into a faint nod, and slapped Connor's arm before walking away.


	4. Stranglers and Lovers

 

**November 8, 2038 **

 

The next day went by in a long blur at the Detroit Police Department.

Hank and Connor spent several hours working to identify the deviants they had on camera at the warehouse break-in. The female android was the first they found success with, connecting her to an android reported missing from the Eden Club, an android-employed sex club in the city. The two male androids were a different story. They were common models, and therefore the list of possible suspects was long.

Then there was the deviant leading the group, but Connor already knew who he was -- he was Connor's predecessor, after all. A gift to an artist by the name of Carl Manfred, designed personally by Elijah Kamski himself. Connor expected nothing but vague responses from CyberLife if he prodded for more information, but per Hank's request, he agreed to try.

They hadn't seen much of Andy, who was in SID's office helping Lieutenant Richards prepare for their operation. Every few hours, she would leave in search of coffee or water from the kitchen. She'd stop by their desks on her way and check in on the case. It provided small breaks for the trio, Andy and Hank casually bickering with one another as Connor watched the entertainment.

It had gone late into the night when Connor received word of a new case. He returned to the bullpen of the department looking for Hank, and instead found Andy at Connor's desk. Her feet were propped up over the edge of the desk, and she read through a tablet resting on her lap.

When she noticed his presence, she glanced up and shrugged at his curious stare. "SID's been using my desk as storage." She flicks a finger across the screen of her tablet, muttering, "Assholes."

Connor scanned the room, and then the empty kitchen. "Where is the Lieutenant?"

"His third bottle, probably. Why?" She asked with a small sigh.

"There's a new case at the Eden Club."

The shift in her attention was immediate. She lowered her tablet and looked up at him, pausing a brief moment to settle into her excitement.  _ Widened eyes, a smile. Finds enjoyment in establishments like Eden? _

Dropping her tablet onto his desk, she kicked her feet off to the floor and started to stand. "Oh, I have to see this," She mused, flashes of amusement breaking through.  _ Not the club. Finds enjoyment in Lieutenant Anderson's reactions. _

Connor watched her walk around the desk and past him. She nudged his arm on her way, offering, "I'll give you a ride. Hope you're okay with motorcycles."

He didn't know if he was okay with motorcycles or not. He had the knowledge to operate one, but he suspected that meant very little in terms of preference. It wasn't lost on him that the excitement Andy had just displayed was something he understood a little more now that he was given the expectation of riding a bike.

That couldn't have meant anything good for him, but he would think on it later. "I haven't had the opportunity to ride one, but I'd be interested in the experience," He told Andy as he turned to follow her out of the department.

She looked over her shoulder at him, her grin changing.  _ Another smile: less sharp, more... cheerful. _

* * *

"So what's your conclusion?"

They were standing in front of Hank's home. Andy was resting her helmet on the bike as Connor pulled at his blazer in an attempt to tidy his appearance, which had been mussed by the wind. When he looked to her with a blank stare after her question, she nodded toward the bike.

"There's little safety, and it leaves you vulnerable to the weather. I suppose the speed and flexibility is a worthy substitute depending on the destination--"

He trailed off at her deepening expression.  _ Raised brow, uneven smile. A smirk. _ She was wanting more from him than an analysis, and his eyes darted to the bike as though hoping he would find something to help him there. His LED cycled through yellow as he struggled to find a way to reword his findings.

It was slow as he began, "All in all, it's daring but efficient. Much like you, Detective." Looking to Andy, he offered her a small smile and an affirmative nod. "I think I like it."

_ Softer expression. A smile again. I've surprised her. _

If the first try wasn't an answer she hoped for, this was one she hadn't expected. She chuckled and said, "Let's go get Hank before you make a girl blush, huh?" 

The comment caught his attention, but before he could question her about it, she'd already gotten halfway to the door. She knocked as he joined her on the porch, and the two waited for a response that never came.

Andy sighed in irritation. "He probably passed out."

"Can you pick the lock again?" He asked her.

She shot him a quick grin and said, "I think I'm a bad influence on you, Connor." Plucking a lockpick from her jacket pocket, Andy hovered over the doorknob and made quick work of the lock.

Hank was laying on the kitchen floor when they entered the house. Upon noticing him, they rushed across the room. Connor knelt down beside the man, checking for vitals. Hank was alive, but unconscious. The beer bottle on the floor nearby was sign enough of what had happened, along with the traces of liquor in his beard. 

A gun had been dropped to the floor and Andy walked around the scene to pick it up and inspect it. She looked into the chamber of the pistol and scoffed. She lowered it to show Connor that Hank was playing Russian Roulette, and he was one pull of the trigger away from losing.

It was a conversation for another time, if at all. Connor reached out and gave him a light slap to the cheek. "Lieutenant?" This pulled nothing but grumbling from Hank. "Wake up, Lieutenant!"

For a brief moment, Hank's eyes opened, though his sight was glazed over and didn't seem to register his surroundings. He swallowed hard and turned his head away, slipping back into sleep. In response, Connor lifted his arm above his head and sent it on a fast track downward. The contact to skin made a loud smack, and Hank jolted up, searching for the offender. 

"It's me, Connor. I'm going to sober you up for your own safety."

He stared at Connor, and then Andy. Connor grabbed his arm and pulled him up, wrapping his arm around Connor's shoulders. "Hey! Leave me alone, you fuckin' android!" Hank yelled, his head bobbing and swaying around as he tried to glare and nod toward the door. "Get the fuck outta my house!"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but we need you," Connor began calmly. He lifted Hank up to his feet, and balanced the added weight in his grip. "I thank you in advance for your cooperation."

"Get the fuck outta here!"

He ignored Hank, instead shifting his focus to Andy, who was gathering up the mess on the floor. "You should wait here, Detective."

She almost rolled her eyes. "No complaints from me," She told him, placing the bottle and Hank's gun on the dining table.

Hank's drunken yelling trailed out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the bathroom as Andy worked to tidy up the kitchen. It was less a favor to Hank and more a way to release pent up frustrations. She was pissed. 

It wasn't news to her that Hank wasn't coping, but to see the extreme way he was struggling up close and in person -- that bothered her. It made it more real, and reminded her of just how out of touch she was.

If things had been different for her over the years, perhaps she could have found it within herself to be gentle. She could have helped him as quietly and calmly as Connor was. She wanted to be that person, but as it stood, her anger was five years in the making, and she found it hard to do anything more than lash out.

"What do you want to wear?"

"Whatever."

Seconds later, Connor emerged from the hall and wandered into the living room. Sumo lay on his bed in the corner, and he lifted his head when Connor grew closer. Andy watched from the kitchen as Connor lowered to his knees and extended a hand. The dog closed the rest of the gap, and he ran a hand through thick fur.

He looked up to find her, and she tried to throw out a grin upon them making eye contact, though it was faint. "The Lieutenant should be ready shortly," Connor informed.

"Did you tell him where we're going?"

He nodded, though it was uncertain. "I informed him the next case was at a sex club. It seemed the only thing to entice him into cooperating with me."

Tilting her head to dramatically quirk a brow, she asked, "He know it's an  _ android _ sex club?"

"I didn't think mentioning that part would help me," He replied. He stood, ignoring Sumo's curious stare as he moved into the kitchen. Nothing was obvious about the scene, but the stiff tone in Andy's voice told him she was not pleased. "Should I give him appropriate warning?"

"Let him figure it out," She muttered, tossing the dirty rag she'd been wiping the table with into the sink.

_ Furrowed brow, deep frown. Hard movements. Something is wrong. _

He watched her from the edge of the kitchen floor. "You seem upset, Detective."

"You don't say?" At the sound of footsteps, they turned to face the hallway, where Hank was finally making a more sober appearance. Before the men could say anything, Andy snapped. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He didn't need to look to her to know the expression on her face. Shaking his head, he grumbled, "Now I'm thinkin' I wish I was unconscious again."

This certainly didn't appease her. She gestured around the room, scolding, "Do you have any idea how bad this looks? Fowler could have your badge over this!"

He stopped when he reached the kitchen and finally faced her. "What are you gonna do, tell on me?" He yelled back.

"I just might!" She answered. With a visible scoff, she pointed between them as she continued, "You complain about me being stupid and then you go and gamble with your life in the middle of an investigation!"

He held out a hand toward her, his own temper flaring just as quickly as hers had. "I don't need a lecture, okay? What I do is my business!"

"Not when I have to walk in on it!" 

The environment got quiet as Hank took a slow step forward. He lowered his voice to a biting growl, saying, "You know, I think Jeffrey's right. This ain't a family dynamic, you got that?" Slashing a hand through the air, he yelled, "I'm not your old man!"

As soon as he said it, he regretted it, but he'd be damned if he let her know that. Andy almost reeled back at the comment, and even five years of undercover work couldn't entirely hide the glimpse of hurt and rage boiling. It almost made him apologize.

"Fuck you, Hank," She spat out, shoving past him to storm out of the house.

The door slammed shut behind her, and engulfed the room in an uneasy silence. Connor's LED had been a very steady yellow throughout the fight and even now, it was hard to step out of that mode that was desperately searching for a way to stop and fix whatever was happening.

"I don't think that was the appropriate strategy to calm her down, Lieutenant," He murmured, unsure of... well, everything.

"Oh, shut up!"

* * *

The ride to the Eden Club had been heavy, to say the least. Hank refused to entertain any conversation with Connor, who could only relate his current situation to that of a child of feuding parents. When they arrived at the club, Andy was already there. She waited across the street, leaning against the seat of her parked bike. Connor took note of her, and the fact that Hank was adamant about looking everywhere  _ but _ at her.

They left Hank's car, and Hank eyed the images above the entrance of the building as he made his way to the sidewalk. "'Sexiest androids in town,'" He snorted, adding, "Now I see why you insisted on coming here."

Connor ignored the remark, and followed him into the club. Purple and blue lighting decorated both the floors and walls, with slow advertisements playing on numerous screens. A variety of HR400 and WR400 models were positioned on pedestals around the lobby and main hallway, which branched off into other parts of the building and was lined with doors to rooms providing customers with privacy.

Ben stood with the owner of the club and a fellow officer by an open door. He waved Hank over after he spotted them. "Hey, Hank!"

"Hey, Ben, how's it goin?" Hank replied, approaching the group.

"It's that room over there," Ben gestured to the nearest doorway. He then cleared his throat and said, "Oh, uh, by the way... Gavin's in there too."

Hank sighed. He glanced into the room, where he could already make out a ruffled bed and two bodies. "Oh. Great. A dead body and an asshole, just what I needed," He muttered before entering the room.

Officer Chris Miller and Detective Gavin Reed stood around the crime scene, which consisted of a dead man in the bed and a deactivated android on the floor by the wall. When Hank entered, Chris gave a polite nod in greeting.

It was not in Gavin Reed's nature to be polite, as Connor had already observed days ago. He smirked at them, arms crossed and a general sense of arrogance permeating the air around him. "Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet... The fuck are you two doin' here?"

Hank was short and gruff, replying, "We've been assigned all cases involving androids."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you're wasting your time," Reed began, nudging toward Chris with a laugh that the officer did not share. "Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle."

Hank gave a small nod, looked around the scene, and said, "We'll have a look anyway, if you don't mind." He moved toward the body, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Why don't you go fill in Detective Hope, huh, Reed? She's right outside."

This caught both Reed's and Connor's attention, though for different reasons. Shrugging, Reed made his way for the door. "Best idea you've had in years," He commented, pausing only to scrunch his nose as he neared Hank, "It's starting to stink of booze in here, anyway." Chris sent them a silent look of apology as he followed the detective out of the room, leaving them be. 

The conversation implied Andy and Reed weren't strangers. While Connor couldn't be sure how they responded to one another, he could be sure that Andy was not feeling very accommodating tonight. His gaze was accusatory as he spoke to Hank, "Is sending Detective Reed out there a good idea, Lieutenant? Detective Hope's current mood appears... less than tolerant."

Hank looked up from the wallet he picked up to scowl. "Why do you think I suggested it?" He asked before waving a hand toward the bodies. "Just focus on the crime scene, will ya?"

* * *

 

Outside the club, Andy waited. She sat against her bike and watched the commotion of officers coming and going. Even if she was privy to the deviancy cases, they weren't  _ hers, _ and on the surface, this particular scene had nothing to do with red ice. It was too much of a risk to join them inside, so at a curb across the street, she would wait.

"Vicky?"

That wasn't to say she was free of risk where she was, either. She looked to the voice and saw a lanky young man standing on the sidewalk. "What are you doing here, Tommy?" She asked as though she hadn't been spotted police-watching.

He choked out a laugh and gestured to the squad cars. "Me? I'm not the one watching the police investigate a robo sex club!"

In the grand scheme of Weaver's operation, Tommy was little more than an errand boy. He delivered messages and trivial packages, and worked with the casual customers -- the overworked mother wanting a day off, or the fresh-faced college kid looking to experiment.

He was not the worst one to catch her there, because she knew how to push his buttons. "I was lookin' for a good time, okay?" She defended. Shaking her head as she eyed the officers at the door, she whined, "Was kind of hoping they'd be gone by now."

This was enough to catch Tommy by surprise, and the sensitive topic had him struggling for words. "Oh, you... You, uh... I didn't know..." After a pause, he decided to turn the tables and try to tease her. "So you like plastic, huh?"

"I like orgasms." The sounds he made were even less legible than the earlier stuttering. Like an embarrassed schoolboy, he shifted on his feet and attempted, without success, to appear lackadaisical about the whole thing.

Reed emerged from the front doors of the club. When he started to cross the street, Andy straightened. "Shit."

She stood and grabbed her helmet from off the bike seat. Drawing closer, Reed held up a hand to wave them away. "All right, get a move on, you two. There's nothing to see here."

In true form, Tommy was gone faster than she could see the direction he went. He never had much of a spine. She would poke fun at him over it later, but for now, she would sit atop her bike and make her way around to the back of the club. 

She was putting on her helmet when Reed's hand clamped down on the nearest handle of her bike. He leaned in, and as she looked down at his hand, he loudly asked her, "You sure you should be lurking this close to a crime scene, Victoria?"

"You sure you should be putting your hand there, Asshole?" She retorted, shooting a glance up at him.

"Yeah, keep talking, see where it gets you," He threatened.

Inhaling deeply, she stared at the road ahead, asking, "You got anything good to say or just your usual bile?"

At this, he leaned closer. "One victim, one trashed android. Your buddies are wasting their time," He said, almost gleeful at the thought.

She smirked. "You  _ would _ know an awful lot about bogus police work," She jabbed before smacking his hand off the handle to replace it with her own grip. "Tell 'em I'll be around back."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, asking her, "I hear you might be done with the red ice case soon. Need a new partner?"

With a side glance and the quirk of a brow, she replied, "Why, you know any decent officers looking?"

Much like she often did with him, he wouldn't let her see the offense he took to her words. Instead his smirk tightened, and he took a slow step away from the bike. "Get outta here. I see you near another crime scene and you're going in the back of a squad car," He ordered with a raised voice. He winked just to piss her off before returning to the club.

* * *

After reactivating the android in the room, Connor discovered that there had been a second android - a blue-haired Traci - who killed the man after he destroyed her coworker. This likely meant that she was still in the club, and using the memories of the androids working there, he traced her movements all the way to the garage.

They searched through the rows of androids stationed there, and Hank took to filling the silence with a rant. "People are fucking insane. They don't want relationships anymore, everybody just gets an android," He shrugged, crossing the room, "They cook what you want, they screw when you want, you don't have to worry about how they feel."

He stopped to look over the table in the middle of the room, "Next thing you know, we're gonna be extinct because everybody would rather buy a piece of plastic than love another human being." Shaking his head, he muttered, "Beats me."

Connor began to approach another group of androids. He stood in front of the Traci models, examining each of them, when a brunette model lunged forward. She shoved him back, and he stumbled away as a fight broke out in the store room.

"Don't move!" Hank yelled, running to Connor's aid.

* * *

Andy was waiting around the corner from the club when she heard Hank yelling. She bolted off her bike and made the fast trek to the back of the building. It was bordered off by a tall chain-link fence, through which she could see into the yard leading up to the garage. Connor and Hank were each facing off with separate androids, fighting in the snow. While Connor was exchanging blows in an even match, Hank had been taken to the ground.

"Son of a..." 

The lock on the gate was too heavy duty for her to attempt to break or pick, which left her with one option. She lifted her arms and latched on, quickly climbing to the top and dropping to the ground on the other side.

She ran across the driveway and past Connor. Reaching Hank's side, she grabbed hold of the android atop him and shoved her off balance. The android caught herself and bounced up to her feet, turning to swing at Andy. Andy ducked backward before kneeling and rushing into her, knocking them both to the snow.

Now free, Hank climbed to his feet and scanned his surroundings for his gun. When he spotted it in Connor's hands, he cursed under his breath and turned to focus on the fight taking place behind him. Andy and the Traci model tumbled over one another, and the android found herself on top. 

She delivered a swift punch and pulled her arm up to strike again, but this time Andy caught her wrist. Immediately following this was the cold metal of Andy's gun pushing against her stomach, bringing the android to an abrupt stop.

"Stand up. Slowly," Andy ordered, a little on the breathless side.

The android ripped her arm out of Andy's grasp and followed the instruction. Andy kept a steady aim on her as she backed up, giving them space. Hank took the opportunity to reach for Andy's arm, and once she entwined it with his own, he pulled her up to her feet.

"You good?" Hank whispered, to which she replied with a sharp nod.

Meanwhile, Connor had managed to wrangle the Traci he fought toward the fence. He closed in on her, and she glanced around for a weapon. Taking hold of a nearby trashcan, she lifted it up behind her and threw it at him. The metal canister slammed into Connor's torso, pushing him off his feet and breaking his hold on his gun.

The group closer to the garage looked over at the sound. The lid of the offending trashcan rolled past him, toward the android on the other side of Andy's gun. She jumped for the lid, and as Andy looked down the barrel of her gun, ready to issue another command, the android turned and flung the lid in their direction.

Hank raised a hand to catch the lid with his forearm, but the toss was enough to obscure Andy's aim. Connor reached for Hank's gun, and clamored to his knees. By the time either of them were able to get the android back in their sights, both Traci models reunited by the fence.

They stood side by side, staring down the three detectives with a brazen mixture of anger and fear. They reached for each other's hands, holding tight. "When that man broke the other Traci, I knew I was next," The blue-haired Traci finally spoke, "I was so scared. I begged him to stop but he wouldn't. And so I put my hands around his throat and I squeezed. Until he stopped moving."

She looked back to the android beside her, who nodded and squeezed her hand. "I didn't mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive - get back to the one I love." Her voice went soft, tone full of longing and resentment. "I wanted her to hold me in her arms again. Make me forget about the humans -- their smell and their sweat. Their dirty words."

"Come on. Let's go," Her partner whispered to her, pulling her closer to the fence.

There was no logical reason not to shoot them. They were deviants. He was a deviant hunter. That Traci model killed a man. He was an android detective. If he wasn't going to stop deviancy, what good was he? But as they turned away from the trio and began to climb the fence, Connor couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger.

Before he realized it, he'd lowered his gun.

* * *

Connor stared out at the alley. Behind him was half of CSI, collecting evidence from the garage. Hank spoke with Ben, explaining the events while also omitting some of the more important details. He glanced out at Connor every now and then, unsure if the worry he was feeling was for the android's emotional wellbeing, or for the possibility he'd been compromised.

"You didn't shoot." Connor turned his head; Andy stood there, looking up at him with as much intensity as he was already placing on himself. "You had a clear line of sight."

There was nothing he could really say. There was no good reason, after all, to let them go. "I chose not to shoot," He said.

"No shit," Was her instant response, "Why?"

He paused. He didn't know why. He hated not knowing why. "I wanted to take the Tracis in for questioning," He lied.

She almost laughed at that, asking, "So you let them go instead? Doesn't seem like the kind of decision a machine's at liberty to make."

_ It wasn't. _ That was the worst part -- the main problem he was trying to solve. His eyes narrowed down at her, replying defensively, "I assure you, Detective, I am not human or deviant."

She nodded, but it was slow and skeptical at best. "Just a robo cop with compassion, is that it?" She mused. Glancing to the squad working in the garage, she moved on, "I'm going to head out before this attracts too much attention."

He watched her turn to leave, but another thought struck him. The fight in Hank's kitchen. The look on her face. It shouldn't have struck him, but it did. "Detective," He called out. When she turned to face him, he said, "I'm sure the Lieutenant regrets how your last conversation went."

Much to his dismay, she snorted. Despite the harsh sound, her attention on him was not displeased. She was almost smiling as she walked backwards, joking, "And now he's a psychologist! Imagine that." 

His brows furrowed, and he shook his head. "I'm not a--"

"Connor, get over here!"

* * *

It was a long day for the DPD, and an even longer night. Hank needed some peace and quiet, and maybe some fresh air. He went to the one spot that had all of those things -- a bench along the riverside with a decent view of the bridge to Canada. He sat atop the back of the bench, a bottle in hand and the cold wind biting at his skin.

It shouldn't have been much of a surprise when Connor appeared, walking up to the side of the bench and crossing his arms. The damn android couldn't go an hour without being at his side, it seemed. He would've likened it to a puppy if he didn't think it was an insult to dogs.

"Nice view, huh? I used to come here a lot before...," Hank trailed off. It'd been a while since talking about Cole almost slipped from him so easily.

Connor watched him with a curious stare. "Before what?"

"Before--" No.  _ Don't do that, Hank. _ It never led anywhere good, not that where he usually was was any better. He shook his head, saying, "Before nothin'."

But this was Connor he was talking to, and Connor wasn't one to let up on things. "You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant. Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?" He inquired.

Hank couldn't deny that was part of it tonight. In just a matter of minutes, his entire view on androids was challenged and shaken. "Those two girls... They just wanted to be together. They really seemed in love," He murmured.

"They can simulate human emotions, but they're machines. And machines don't feel anything," Connor explained.

For some reason, that frustrated Hank more than he suspected it should have. Maybe it was the dismissal of what was clearly a traumatic experience, or maybe it was the knowledge that Connor wasn't so free of puzzling behavior, himself. "What about you, Connor?" Hank finally turned on him, sliding off the bench to his feet. "You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?"

The question seemed to bother Connor, who turned defensive. "You know exactly what I am. In any case, I don't see how that's relevant to the investigation."

It was a little too relevant, if Hank was feeling particularly honest about it. "You could've shot those two girls, but you didn't. Why didn't you shoot, Connor? Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?" He probed.

"No, I...," Shaking his head, Connor gave a weak answer, "Just decided not to shoot, that's all."

Hank took a step toward him, his gaze turning more scrutinizing. "And why'd you save me? Back on that roof, you let that deviant go to help me."

It was a question that plagued him for days, but he didn't know how to ask it or if he even should. It could have been a fluke, and if that was the case, he didn't want to hear it. He didn't know  _ what _ he wanted the answer to be.

"You're my partner. There's always a chance I can find that deviant again," Connor argued, his expression souring as the conversation had now been completely turned around onto him.

To say it like it was such an obvious decision bugged Hank. He snorted and shook his head, muttering, "I don't get you." He turned away and created distance between them, feeling an urge to pace. "You show up here without any sympathy or emotion, and next thing I know, you're..."

"I'm what?"

Hank stopped and faced him. He didn't know the end of that sentence, either.  _ You're... not so bad? A friend? Human? _ Hank's mind kept going back to the day before the incident on the roof. Everything changed that day. Slowly, he asked, "Are you afraid to die, Connor?"

Connor hadn't expected the question. It was obvious by the stiff body language and the yellow LED. After a short time to gather his thoughts, he said, "It was not... pleasant the first time, Lieutenant. I certainly hope to avoid it in the future."

So was that it, then? Connor got scared? He had trauma and decided to think twice about not being a prick? Hank didn't pretend to be an expert on these things, but that sounded pretty human to him.

A ringing cellphone broke through the thick atmosphere, and Hank pulled it from his pocket. "What is it?"

Richards' voice came through from the other end. "Evening to you, too, Hank," He joked before letting out a long, weary sigh. "I thought I'd let you know we got the warrants."

Oh, more good news. Hank's expression sharpened as he snapped, "What happened to 'it'll take a few days?'"

"I was wrong!" Richards exclaimed. "We're getting started in the morning."

With a clenched jaw and no words, Hank hung up his phone and stuffed it into his pocket. He and Andy's situation was yet another matter for him to have to deal with, and the deadline to do it just got shorter. He couldn't have them send her off to Weaver without knowing if things were good between them. He stared out at the river for a moment, bitter. So much for peace. 

"Richards got the warrants to go after Weaver," He informed Connor. Picking up his bottle from the bench, he started walking to the car.

Connor watched him leave, asking after a few seconds, "Where are you going?"

"To get drunker."


	5. Laughter and Espionage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize in advance for the considerable length of this chapter, and the four new characters being introduced. I have the entirety of this story drafted and outlined, and I just couldn't cut this one down any less.
> 
> Additionally, thank you for the kudos and comments. They're very much appreciated. <3

 

** November 9, 2038 **

 

"May I ask you something, Detective?"

Connor and Andy stood inside the DPD garage. For the past half hour, Andy had been sifting through the contents of her duffel bag on the work table. She reorganized her things, checked and rechecked the messages on her phone, and was currently in the process of reloading her gun. A cab the department commandeered was parked a small number of yards away and until they entered it, she would busy her hands and mind with trivial tasks. With little else to do himself, Connor took to watching her.

She pulled back the slide of her weapon and then released it, letting it return to its place. The click accompanied her response. "Shoot."

"How long have you known the Lieutenant?" He asked.

Her eyes drifted up as she went through the time line in her head. "I met him the first day I joined the department, so... eight years?"

During the argument they had two days prior, Andy made comment of her work relationship with Hank. It was sitting in Connor's mind ever since, and now seemed the most appropriate time to talk. "You mentioned before that he trained you."

She nodded, "Yeah, back when people gave a damn about what he had to say." Slipping her gun into its holster, she glanced toward him and asked, "You know Gavin Reed?" 

Connor believed he knew simultaneously nothing  _ and _ too much about Detective Reed. There was a pause as he tried to find a polite way to convey this, and finally he said, "I've had some encounters with him, yes." 

The effort was in vain, for she saw right through him. "Nice way of putting it," She mused. With a snort, she told him, "I was his partner."

"You used to be on Homicide," He replied, his tone less a question than an observation. It was news to him, though he supposed it shouldn't be surprising. He knew she didn't start her career on the task force, and it made some sense to put the two young detectives together.

An affirmative hum from Andy continued the conversation. "Hank started watching me from my very first case. One day he comes up to me, tells me my potential shouldn't be wasted on a guy like Reed and I should transfer over to Narcotics," She explained, turning to face him.

"I assume you agreed."

She gained a sharp grin and said, "Most people aim for Homicide, but after all those successes with the task force, Hank was a pretty big deal. He told me to jump and I asked how high. I joined SID a few years later."

Despite her nonchalance, the statement carried a hefty weight that even Connor could feel. It appeared to be a bitter topic for her. Thanks to her tense shoulders and avoidant gaze, it was also just as clear to him that she hoped he either didn't notice it or wouldn't hone in on it. He could give her this much -- there was something else he wanted to discuss, anyway.

"May I ask you another question?" 

Another grin, this one more sincere than the last. "You don't have to ask for permission like that, you know." When he continued to stare in wait of an answer, she laughed and asked, "What is it?" 

"Why didn't  _ you _ shoot the androids from Eden Club?" He stared at her as the question caught her off guard, "You were armed, and you also had a clear line of sight."

After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders. "She only acted in-self defense. I don't shoot someone like that."

Whatever Connor had hoped to find within her answer -- justification, reassurance, some other reason that made what happened okay -- it wasn't there. If anything, her words left him with more frustration. Brows furrowing over his eyes, he argued, "It wasn't  _ someone _ acting in self-defense. It was a machine."

His response didn't faze her; in fact, she seemed ready for it. "All right, and how about you elaborate on your sudden act of mercy, huh?"

"I-- That..." 

It was his turn to be surprised. It shouldn't have been, seeing as she asked him the previous night why he let those deviants escape, but to turn his own argument against him was precisely what he hoped to avoid. He didn't want the concept of sympathy to enter the conversation, because admission of that opened doors he wasn't sure he could close. No, it was best for him to insist there was a logical reason. There had to be, and he would find it. Eventually.

"You know, I don't think I've ever met a tongue-tied android before."

With how hard she was looking at him now, he almost expected her to find something he couldn't see. Her expression shifted into something lighter, and she reached for the straps of her bag. She looked downright pleased with herself as she shot him a coy smirk and said, "I think I like it."

He said something similar after a rather memorable bike ride. He didn't think much of what he said at the time, but then she smiled at him and commented on the impact it had with her. It was his attempt at flattery, in small part hoping to turn her roguish attitude back onto her.

"Are you teasing me, Detective?" He asked, only mildly surprised at this point.

She gave no direct response, but she chuckled as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. The corners of Connor's lips twitched up into a smile as she walked past him toward the cab.

The door to the station opened. Hank entered the garage and upon spotting Andy, he crossed the floor to meet her at the car, calling out her name. Connor looked to the sound but quickly turned away. He pretended to busy himself with various tools and equipment at the work table, though he listened to Hank's footsteps with no shortage of curiosity.

"Hey, uh--" Hank cut himself short when Andy aimed her stare in his direction. For all the work he put into hyping himself up for this conversation, once it came time to actually have it, he felt himself at a loss for words. Clearing his throat, he asked, "You doin' okay?"

"I'm fine," She answered with a small shake of her head. She waited to see if he would continue the conversation, but nothing more was said. Quirking her brows, she knelt into the back of the cab to place her bag on the floor.

Hank resisted a sigh. It shouldn't have been this difficult to talk to her about their argument, but it just  _ was _ . He didn't want to get emotional, especially on the job, but he'd put it off too long and this was his last chance. That didn't make this any -easier. "Listen," He began, ignoring the flash of irritation on her face as he struggled to get to his point, "About last night..."

Immediately, Andy rolled her eyes and shifted her weight to one foot. "Oh, Jesus--" Holding up a hand, she asked him, "Let's just not do that and say we did, all right?"

_ No, not all right. _ This wasn't just for her benefit; Hank needed to get this off his chest. He needed her to know there were no hard feelings on his end, needed her to know that he still regarded her as closely a friend as he had the day she left. Nothing changed that, not the time, not the cases, not any argument. Not the accident.

But she was offering him an easy way out of a heavy conversation, and Hank was never one for heavy conversations. "Yeah. All right," He agreed with a stiff nod.  _ Nice job, asshole. _

At that, he let her slide into the cab. He began to return inside, and caught Connor staring. The android detective avoided his gaze, and Hank rolled his eyes on his way out of the garage.

* * *

"Hey." 

Connor turned away from the window of the cab. He and Andy sat side by side as the car automated its drive down the street. It had been a quiet ride up until now, which was unlike his companion, and the hard expression on her face told him it was less due to nerves and more of a focus on the job. 

Her eyes finally drifted up to him, and she asked, "You ever been damaged before?"

"No, I haven't." The answer didn't sit well with him. It was not technically incorrect: his body remained intact through all its hardships, of which there were not many. His memory was another matter, and was a separate being altogether. It existed purely to educate him on the beginning of this case.

No matter how much he told himself that, it didn't stop his words from feeling like a lie, much like it didn't stop the fear that crept inside him every time danger was present.

"That answer wasn't suspect at all."

Of course she would not be as kind when it came to his own topics he wished not to discuss. He shot her a pointed stare, but she stayed on course, waiting for him to explain himself. Despite the skepticism, she appeared genuinely interested in his story. She was the first to be interested.

His LED slowly cycled through yellow, and then he caved. "There was a deviant attempting to cross the highway to escape police custody," Neither of them looked away as he went on, "The first Connor pursued it, but was destroyed by oncoming traffic. Its memories were uploaded into me after I was activated."

She returned his stare, absorbing the story. Blinking, she said, "I'm only asking because what we're about to do is risky."

Connor attempted to be optimistic, saying, "Everything should go according to plan."

She chuckled and replied, "When does  _ that _ ever happen?" Her expression then shifted to something he'd never seen -- she had shown tenderness before, but this was mixed with something else. "I'm going to be in your ear the whole time. If the heat gets too hot, just say the word and I'll jump in."

It humbled him to realize the expression was a genuine care for his wellbeing, with a level of authority and certainty that made him want to believe the conviction of her words. She was trying to reach out and soothe  _ him, _ which is not the way things should have been.

"You shouldn't worry for my sake. I am just a machine." It was feeling more and more like an automated response, and she was quick to deliver an unconvinced stare.

The cab came to a stop, mercifully ending the conversation for Connor. The door to his right opened, and a nervous older gentleman climbed in. He sat across from them, and gave a small jump as the door shut behind him. His hands played with the pant fabric at his knees, and Andy smiled in greeting. It did not help.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," He confessed.

Unabashed, Andy nodded her head toward Connor. "All right, but aim it at him."

The faint noise of disgust that left the android detective was surprising to them both, and a laugh bubbled from Andy's chest that she had to bite down.

* * *

The trio arrived at a park near the edge of the city some time later. They left the car and Andy led them to a picnic table not far from the parking lot, where they would wait. She sat on the table, feet on the bench next to the man they brought with them. Connor stood at the end of the table, still and inexpressive.

It was another fifteen minutes before a third party arrived. He came in from another side of the lot, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. Andy noticed him immediately, and nodded to him once he was close enough to see it. 

Jason Hart was Nick Weaver's closest friend, and the over-sized jock was essentially third in command of the operation. He was also the hardest obstacle Andy had to deal with, because once she made it to him, she had access to Nick himself.

He was staring at Connor as he walked up to them, and he asked, "This it?"

The trembling man behind Andy jumped up to his feet, but she answered for him. "Nah, he's got another robot on the way."

Jason scowled at her sarcasm, though it was nothing new. He passed her and approached Connor, inspecting him as closely as possible for a man with little to no technical knowledge. "Marty." 

The man hummed in anticipation, rushing to their side. Andy almost lost composure at the sight. Marty wasn't her first choice for this job, but he was also the easiest client the department could get to betray Nick and one of the only ones Richards felt comfortable offering immunity to in exchange.

Luckily, Jason was too busy towering over Connor to care about the man's attitude. "Where'd you get it?"

Marty glanced to Andy, who nodded and urged him to say something. "All of the executive staff at the office got bonuses. There was a merger-- TriTech, the appliance department-- we're working on this new form of--"

"What about its tracker?" Jason interrupted before he could get lost in Marty's droning.

"I-- I disabled it."

They waited several seconds as Jason and Connor stared one another down. Andy was thankful now more than ever that Connor looked as unassuming as he did -- she'd seen how big some androids could be, and she wasn't sure this would have been convincing if she brought Jason one of them.

Jason finally crossed his arms over his chest and spoke, this time to Connor himself, "Tell me your name."

Unexpectedly, Connor didn't miss a beat. "My name is Connor. I'm an assistant android for Mister Graham."

There were no noticeable warning bells to this response, so Jason addressed the others, remarking, "Never seen this model before."

"You an expert now?" Andy quipped from her place still on the table behind Connor.

He shot her a warning glare over Connor's shoulder and said, "Watch it. Things have been shit lately."

_ No kidding. _ "What's going on?"

The smirk he gained was as clearly heard in his voice as it was mocking. "You woulda heard about it if you weren't getting off with plastic yesterday," He told her.

For the briefest of moments, she was confused. Then she remembered the Eden Club, and Tommy finding her outside. Of course he would run off to share such a thing with everyone else. "Fuckin Tommy...," She muttered, shaking her head.

Jason only laughed at her expense, but the conversation seemed to lighten things enough for him to be satisfied. "We'll bring it in, see what Spades thinks." He faced Marty but gestured between Andy and Connor as he ordered, "Get it in the car. I'll be there in a minute."

No matter how much she wanted to succeed or how much work went into preparation, a part of Andy expected all of this to blow up in her face. Hearing him give her the go ahead came with great relief, and plenty of surprise. Nonetheless, Andy kept her cool and replied with a quiet nod.

* * *

Once Jason returned to them after paying Marty, he took them down a number of back roads through Detroit. It would have been a tense ride had Connor not been an android, and Andy had not already been accustomed to being alone with the man in the driver's seat.

They pulled up to a residential building -- a long, one story brick home with a tiny slab of a front porch. It wasn't a place Andy recognized, which was a discovery that came with both excitement and mild paranoia. The faint voice in her head that ran with wild ideas was already imagining the different ways Jason would kill her in some abandoned property before taking off with Connor.

They followed Jason to the front door, where he banged a fist against the wood. Seconds later, a male android opened the door to them, and Andy felt some relief at the familiar face of Nick's assistant android. Sam didn't go anywhere Nick didn't, so his presence could only mean good things.

"Good afternoon," Sam greeted, stepping back to allow them inside.

They made their way through the hall, which opened up to a small kitchen. Another hallway was to their right, and an open door on the left revealed stairs that led into a basement. 

"Follow me," Jason ordered Connor. He stepped toward the basement, and nodded to Sam as he told Andy, "Spades wants to see you."

Getting separated was not unexpected, but when Connor looked back to Andy, she could have sworn she saw a flash of concern. She tried to convey a casual attitude in her body language to reassure him; she shifted her weight to one foot, relaxed her shoulders, and slid her hands into her pockets.

"Got it, boss," She replied, turning to follow Sam.

* * *

An unmarked van was parked several yards away from the home. Inside it sat Lieutenant Richards and a small number of SID officers. They watched the duel footage they had set up, one through Connor's own software and the other attached to Andy's jacket. Plain clothes detectives were getting into position along the street the home was on, and a second van was finding a good place to park around the corner.

"When do we move?" Someone in the back of Richards' van asked.

Richards shook his head, eyes on the cameras. "Not yet."

* * *

The basement was mostly one, long rectangular room. The floor was concrete, the walls were brick, and narrow columns of brick were situated throughout the room. At the end of this room was a closed door, and Jason was leading Connor straight toward it.

Connor looked around as he followed the man. The lighting in the basement was dim, but he was able to make out a set up for manufacturing red ice against the right wall. A fridge and a waist-high freezer sat nearby, both turned off and opened, containing large brown packages. Shelves sat over the freezer with bins holding small bags of red ice.

On the left of the room were several rows of androids lined up along the wall. They stood shoulder to shoulder, back to chest, each one with their skins turned off and their functions on standby. Several had been marred in various ways, and Connor could safely assume these to be the androids from Zlatko Andronikov's estate.

Jason opened the door at the end and walked them into a smaller room. The equipment inside was not unlike what they found in Andronikov's basement. Computer screens sat at a control center connected to a large platform in the middle of the room, mechanical arms extended out from the center behind it. It was equipment that contained and controlled android programming, and in that moment, it was the most frightening thing Connor had ever seen.

Unaware of Connor's inner turmoil, Jason crossed the room and lowered into a single chair that sat by the computers. He turned on the systems and waved a hand toward the platform.

"Step up."

* * *

The building they were in was not lived in, nor was it the base of daily operations, so the office Andy was led to was minimally decorated. There was a desk in the middle of the room, two chairs, and a lone bookshelf in the corner carrying a few mystery containers and a black lock box. The computer had two monitors, and one was stationed at the end of desk, turned inward so that people on either side could view it.

Nick Weaver sat at the desk, leaning back and flipping a pen between long idle fingers. His chair sat sideways, and he faced the far wall, though he was looking at the secondary monitor. A woman was on the screen, and when Sam knocked on the door to alert them of the arrival, she was the first to see them.

Sharon was Nick's older sister. She was second in command, though not for lack of any authority on her part. Bringing her in was just as important as it was catching Nick, so seeing her on a monitor in what looked to be an airport was an immediate hit to Andy's current high of getting this far.

"Victoria has arrived," Sam announced beside her.

Nick looked over his shoulder and smirked. As Andy ventured into the room, he greeted, "Glad you could finally return to us." He dropped the pen and balled his hands into his lap. "Hear you been busy."

She wasn't living that down, was she? "To what end?" She asked him.

His cackle was as good natured as anything could be coming from Nick Weaver, which meant that it was only a little less sinister than his usual amusement. "I don't care about your extracurriculars," He dismissed with a shrug.

"I do," Sharon mused from the screen. She smiled with a quirk of her brow, and lowered her chin to send a flirty stare Andy's way.

Nick scoffed. "Of course  _ you _ do."

Andy focused on Sharon now. There were no discernible markers to the background. It looked like any other average airport. She nodded toward the screen, asking, "Where are you at?"

Sharon gave a tired sigh and looked up over her phone to the rest of the airport. "I lost track after the third layover," She replied, resting a hand in her red curls.

"What number you on now?"

She returned Andy's cheekiness with her own, retorting, "What year is it?"

"Are you two done?" Nick raised his voice, looking between the women. 

Sharon rolled her eyes. "We never are, but your less than subtle point has been made."

Nick ignored the comment and moved the conversation along. "We've been talking about you--"

"I have a business offer."

Sharon's interruption had him tightening his jaw and growling out, "I'll hang up on you."

His anger didn't bother her in the slightest. "Then I'll just call her." 

Turning to Andy, Nick went on to explain, "We're working on setting up a second location. Somewhere closer to our guys down south. Sharon'll run things there, I'll keep business going here."

Sharon was excited to jump in again. "I want you to come with me," She told her.

Andy was reeling trying to appreciate how big this news was, and several questions came racing through her mind. If they were planning to expand, were they already moving a significant portion of their product out of Detroit? Did they have a location already in mind? Is that where Sharon was going or returning from?

"What?" Was all she could manage in her shock.

Sharon smiled and nodded, brushing hair from her face. "You'll be my very own Jason, except I'll actually like you," She joked, unaware of the concerns cycling around in Andy's head.

"Watch it," Nick warned his sister, who merely rolled her eyes at him.

Andy was slowly regaining her composure. "Are you serious?" She asked them.

Nick shrugged and told her, "If you don't want it, we'll ask someone else."

"N-- No, I do," She interjected, holding up a hand, "I want it." Either this would all end before it came to that, or Sharon would be moving camp, and Andy wanted to make sure she was part of the worst-case scenario.

This came across as enthusiasm to Nick and Sharon. "It won't happen for another few months, but we'll keep you updated," Nick informed. He looked away to his phone, signaling the end of the conversation.

Leaning toward her camera, Sharon grinned at Andy. "Now back to this Eden Club business..."

"Jesus, I'm going to smoke," Nick scoffed, standing from his desk to leave the room.

* * *

Connor stepped up onto the platform of the machine and turned to face outward. He kept a close eye on Jason, whose attention was deeply focused on the terminal in front of him.

The man sighed to himself, muttering under his breath. His hands hovered over the inputs, and he made each move with a painstaking level of awareness. Whoever usually did this sort of work on Nick's androids, Connor could tell it wasn't this man. He was struggling more than Hank when it came to modern technology.

Not that Connor could complain. Every second it took for Jason to figure out how to use the equipment before him was one second more in Connor's favor -- another increase in the chances he had to make it out of this unharmed. When the cold metal arms pressed against his back and wrapped around his wrists, he felt a rush of panic and the instinct to fight it. He remained where he was, however, stiffly allowing the machine to lift him off his feet.

True to her words, Andy had remained in his ear the entire time. Her earpiece was connected to his own cellular software, and her voice was faint in the background through every minute. He had a sneaking suspicion this situation is what she meant when she mentioned 'the heat getting too hot,' but as much as he hated this, Connor resigned himself to the ideal he'd been repeating for days now: He was a machine, and what happened to him was not as important as closing a case.

Besides, Andy would come for him soon enough. He believed that -- believed in her.

A woman said something that caused Andy to laugh, and he drowned out everything else going on, focusing on the sound. It didn't take away the fear of the moment, but she certainly made it easier to bear.

* * *

Sharon didn't chat for long, her next flight inching closer by the minute. Once they ended the call, Andy returned to the kitchen.

Nick sat at the small dining table in the kitchen. He pinched an electronic cigarette between his fingers, and rested his elbows on the table. Beside him at the counter was a housekeeping android, cleaning dirty dishes. Sam stood off to the side of the room, blank faced and patiently waiting for a new order.

Andy sat at the table, though her eyes drifted to the basement. She'd heard nothing from down below, and Jason had yet to make his appearance.

"Sharon's going to need a few people to go with her," Nick said, drawing her attention back to him, "You should start putting a list together. We'll see what we can do."

She lifted a brow. "You're not just gonna send the worst you got with her?"

He shook his head and began, "Detroit might be where it's all at, but the second location will be important for business with Mexico. I can't have anyone screwing it up." He pointed his cigarette at her. "That includes you."

"What did I do to deserve this lecture?"

"I know you got knifed." When her face fell, he flashed her a smug smirk. "Sharon's smart, but she's not gonna let idiots get away with shit like that. You got to keep her in line just as much as she does you."

Trying to keep Sharon in line was like trying to leash a wild animal. Andy scoffed, "Yeah, I'll keep  _ her _ in line."

Shrugging, he replied, "You're the one who accepted the job."

Andy watched him a moment before musing, "I'm starting to think you're just trying to get her out of your hair."

"You're  _ just now _ starting to think that?"

"What are you gonna do with Marty's robot?" The shift in topic was immediate, but Andy tried to stay calm and curious with her tone.

Nick didn't think much of the question. He flicked at his cigarette, saying, "Jason will check it out, make sure it's safe. I'll probably sell it off-- gift it if I'm feeling generous." Looking up at her, he smirked. "Why, you feelin' like putting me in a generous mood?"

Andy snorted. "You are  _ not _ the Weaver sibling I'd take to bed."

* * *

Richards had been listening to the conversations going on and nodded to the other officers, issuing the order, "Everyone in position."

SID acted immediately. Officers retrieved their gear and left the department issued vehicles. The detectives on the street began to stroll down the sidewalk toward the house, keeping their hands near concealed weapons.

Across the street was a young woman walking with a baby stroller, and a home care android traveled at her side. As SID officers closed in on the home, one stepped up to the duo and held out his badge. He quickly and quietly escorted them to their home on that street, but failed to notice the yellow LED of the android in their company as he communicated with someone else.

* * *

Andy and Nick settled into the silent kitchen. Nick immersed himself in his cigarette, but Andy continued to watch the doorway to the basement. She'd heard Richards' command, and they couldn't have been far from storming the storeroom now. The second she heard them, she was making a dash to go find Connor. He may not have alerted them of danger, but knowing the android, he would have let them dismantle him before he admitted to needing their help. If anything, she considered radio silence to be  _ worse. _

It took her several seconds to break out of this thought and recognize that the kitchen shouldn't have been silent at all. She looked toward the android at the counter, who had turned off the faucet and was staring down into the sink. The telltale yellow of her LED was sign enough of trouble.

When Nick noticed Andy's intense curiosity on the android, he looked to her as well. He let out a short whistle to catch her attention, calling out, "You breaking or something?"

The android jolted in surprise and pulled away from the sink. She turned around and told him, "There are police outside."

_ Fuck. _

Nick sat straighter, dropping his cigarette to the table. "What?"

The android nodded in confirmation. "They're on their way, and there may be more of them."

* * *

Inside the SID van where Richards would remain, he cursed under his breath at the announcement heard through Andy's earpiece. He leaned forward, ordering into his radio, "Get in there, now."

With guns at the ready, SID moved in on the building.

* * *

"Fuck--" Nick jumped to his feet and Andy wasn't far behind in the panic. "Go get Jason," He told her before nodding at Sam. Sam was quick to follow him. Nick looked to Andy as he moved, yelling, "And tell him to break that damn bot!"

They took off down the hall toward the office, and Andy found herself at a crossroads.

She could do as he said and fetch Jason. The three of them could flee together -- she would maintain Nick's trust in her just long enough to reunite with Sharon and then she could bring all of them in at once. Hank would get Andronikov's androids, and SID would get everyone they needed. It was not just a clean solution to the sudden problem they had on their hands, but an opportunity she wouldn't have gotten otherwise. Everyone needed that win.

But how long would that take? Another year? Another five? Could she do this all over again?

And what did that mean for Connor?

Andy raced downstairs, descending into the dark basement. She hadn't made it halfway there when she was already calling out for Jason.

In the room in the basement, Connor felt his body physically relax when Jason looked toward the sound. "What?" Jason yelled back.

Andy rushed into the doorway. "Cops on their way. We need to go."

"Wh--" Jason straightened, looking to Connor with confusion and suspicion. "What do I do with that?"

She paused and made brief eye contact with Connor. In what little time she had to assess the situation, she could only hope he was okay. "Leave it. Let's just  _ go _ ," She said to Jason.

For all the time Connor spent correcting her use of pronouns regarding androids, there was a very distinct pang that came with  _ Andy _ referring to him as an object, but now wasn't the time to focus on that. He looked between them, eyes landing on the man who was standing from the control center.

"I haven't wiped its memory yet," Jason complained, digging into his pockets as he neared Connor.

Andy started to grow antsy at the movement. She stepped into the room, impatiently arguing, "What are you doing? Who cares about its memory-- We don't have time for this!"

"It won't take me long," Jason dismissed, waving toward the door with a free hand as he pulled a switchblade from his pocket with the other, "Just head upstairs." He stepped closer to Connor, who was now pulling as hard as he could on his arms. 

Jason put a hand on the nearest mechanical arm and leaned forward, but heard behind him the click of a gun. He looked over his shoulder, coming face to face with the barrel of Andy's firearm.

"Can't let you do that, Jason," She told him, shrugging.

He stared back at her, the shock turning into a bemused scowl. "You've got to be kidding me."

She shook her head. "Afraid this isn't a joke." Gesturing to the ground with her gun, she ordered, "Put the weapon down and step away from the android."

"You fucking bitch--"

"Weapon down," She repeated more firmly.

Jason held up his hands and took a small step away from the platform. Lowering to he knees, he let go of his switchblade and dropped it to the floor. She watched him stand up, continuing, "Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

He did so, his movements slow and careful. Connor still pulled at the arms of the machine behind him, keeping a close eye on Jason. He  _ hated _ that his hands weren't free.

Andy reached out with her foot and kicked the blade away from them. She began to motion toward the wall, ready to have him stand against it until SID arrived to the basement, when Jason spun around and struck her in the face with his elbow.

The impact was loud, and Connor started to thrash his arms to free himself. The machine allowed for some movement but otherwise held tight, forcing him to watch as Andy stumbled. Jason grabbed her wrist and twisted until she dropped her gun, and then went in for a swing of his fist. She ducked under his arm and kicked up her foot, shoving the tip of her boot directly into his groin.

Jason's grip loosened as he knelt down in pain. Andy wound up her next throw, giving a wide sweep to the punch she delivered to his face. He collapsed to the ground on his side, and Andy raced to pick up her gun.

The sound of SID storming the basement was heaven to Andy and Connor, and the drop of Jason's shoulders was clear enough indication that he'd given up. Once officers reached the room, she turned toward the terminal beside the machine. Seconds later, Connor was being lowered to his feet, and Andy moved to meet him on the platform.

"Are you okay?"

They stopped, having spoken over one another in their panic. They both found the other's question to be puzzling, each of them believing their concern for the other was more important.

"I'm intact--"

"I'm fine--"

"You're bleeding," Connor raised his voice, stopping her from going any further. He leaned forward, eying the already forming bruise on her cheek and the blood that dripped from her nose.

A whistle from the doorway pulled Andy's attention to the door, but Connor kept an intense stare on her face. From behind him, he heard Richards. "Weaver got away."

* * *

In the kitchen at the DPD, Hank stood the coffee maker, waiting for the cup under the spout to fill. SID had returned to the station, bringing in Jason, a truckload of androids, and more red ice than he was sure they had room to store it. It was a huge break, but none of them particularly felt like celebrating just yet.

"Detective Hope may be in danger."

He jumped, turning back to find Connor in the doorway, staring at him. "Jesus-- Give a guy some warning next time," He complained, snatching the cup into his hand. He placed it on the counter and put a second one down, pressing a button on the machine.

Connor stepped closer, explaining, "Nick Weaver will likely be looking for her. We should talk to Captain Fowler and make sure she's protected."

The severity in Connor's voice may have been enough for someone else to bend over, but Hank sighed and fully faced him now. "Okay, I see what this is."

Connor's brows furrowed in confusion. "This?"

"You worked a case with her and now you're attached. It's normal-- well, for humans. Didn't expect it from you," Hank grumbled, shaking his head, "Nick will either skip town or hide till the coast is clear, which isn't gonna happen for him. Either way, we're gonna find him before he even starts to consider going after Andy." Connor was unconvinced, and he began to argue, but Hank held up a hand and stated, "She's fine, Connor."

Connor closed his mouth, almost pouting as Hank turned away to the coffee maker. 

It didn't take long for Connor to speak up again. "Detective Hope told me how you two met." When Hank's wary gaze shifted toward him, he continued, "She said she gladly left homicide for a chance to work with you. I believe her exact phrasing was, 'He told me to jump, and I asked how high.'"

Hank's frown deepened. Were the situation any different, Connor would have regretted bringing it up at all. "Where the hell you goin' with this?" Hank asked him.

With a newly hard stare, Connor said, "We need to discuss the possibility of assigning some protection to the detective. I hoped giving you insight on the influence you have over her--"

Hank moved quickly, pointing to Connor and waving toward the bullpen as he exclaimed, "How about you focus on our investigation instead of giving me insight on the rest of the department, huh, Connor?" He grabbed both cups from the kitchen surface and shoved past Connor, muttering, "Prick..."

The two of them entered the bullpen and approached their desks. Andy sat in Connor's chair, her head leaned over the top as she stared up at the ceiling. She held a bag of ice to her face, insisting it was all she needed and that she'd be fine in a few hours. It didn't stop Connor from trying to push her to go to the hospital, but she was just as stubborn as he was.

Hank placed one of the coffee cups on Connor's desk, and Andy reached for it as she looked up at him. "Well?"

"Still no sign of Weaver," Hank replied, "Richards is talking to Fowler now."

"What about his assistant android, Sam?"

Hank shrugged. "They didn't mention him."

Andy went quiet, taking in the information. The wrinkle in her brow had him concerned. Somehow, some way, she was beating herself up over this. He listened to the audio they recorded from the day, and he knew exactly where her head had been. "You know, for a minute there, I thought you were gonna go on the run with him," Hank confessed.

There was the tiniest of pauses before she said, "I didn't."

His brows shot up a moment and he delivered a pointed look her way. "So you were thinking about it."

"But I didn't," She argued childishly.

"Do you regret it?" He pushed, leaning toward her and waiting for the answer.

This caught her, and he knew as much. With heavy hesitation, she glanced away, saying, "I... haven't decided that yet."

"You did a good job today."

She snorted at that. A wince and groan immediately followed it, and she brought up her other hand to her aching nose. "My main guy got away. Sure, we've got the ice and Jason, but that's not enough," She ranted, scolding herself.

"Andy, listen to me." When she looked him in the eye, he told her seriously, "You're not undercover anymore. You can go after him like a  _ cop _ now."

It floored her to realize that. She was so tangled up in the heat of the moment and the complications that came with Weaver being missing that that fact almost slipped by unnoticed. It was like letting go of a breath she'd been holding for too long, the weight of this immense pressure off her shoulders. She was a cop again.

Seeing her settle into this revelation, Hank began to step away. "I'm gonna go see if we have anything on the androids we brought in yet," He told them. He sent a warning glare to Connor as he left.

It did not go unnoticed by Andy, who asked, "What was that about?"

Connor's frown followed after Hank's silhouette before he answered, "We had a disagreement."

Another snort; another wince and groan. "Just the one?" She joked.

"Perhaps you could help me talk to him," He suggested, looking down at her.

"You want social advice from me?" She lifted the bag of ice off her face to gesture toward the alarmingly dark bruise on her cheek, "From  _ me _ ?"

At her movement, Connor shot her a scolding look. He grabbed the back of her hand and guided it to her face, applying just enough pressure to keep arm in place without doing any damage. The action, bold as it was, surprised her -- even more so after he maintained his hold.

She was quietly observing him as he proceeded without addressing it, "You have a close relationship with the lieutenant, and I've seen you change his mind before."

"What are you even arguing about?"

It didn't take a genius to know the woman who didn't even want to go to the hospital wouldn't take kindly to Connor's desire for personal security. There was no way he was admitting to that. "It pertains to the investigation," He vaguely answered before explaining to her, "I've been analyzing the lieutenant since I arrived. I know a lot of things about him, but only a few have really resonated. I can't seem to get through to him and influence his decision making."

Andy shrugged, dismissing his concerns. "He's a grumpy old man. Not much is gonna 'influence his decision making.'"

"You did."

"Don't you remember? Good looks and an infectious personality?" She remarked with a wiggle of her brows, though she didn't allow him a chance to comment. Sighing, she went on to say, "Look, he's got a past with androids, all right? You're gonna have a tough time getting through to him." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "For whatever it's worth, he likes you."

It didn't seem that way from where Connor was standing, but he supposed Andy knew Hank better than he did. "Do you think so?"

She nodded, sure of herself. "I heard about what you did, you know-- on that rooftop with Hank. Richards told me. That's a big deal, so yeah, I think so."

Hank's disposition certainly had changed since that night. Connor wouldn't quite say he was the lieutenant's new drinking buddy, but Hank had warmed up to some extent. He'd hoped that doing this operation -- helping Andy -- would also get him in Hank's good graces.

"Thank you, Detective," Connor told Andy with a faint smile.

"Did you really analyze him?" She inquired slyly.

He nodded, unaware of where she was going with the conversation. "Yes. I've done the same to everyone."

"What have you learned about me?"

Ah. That's where.

He shifted around where he stood, his LED flashing yellow. He'd discovered quite a bit regarding Detective Hope, but he hadn't yet decided it was all entirely accurate. "You're a little more of a mystery than the lieutenant," He admitted. "You have a lot of energy, and your brash attitude tends to either irritate others or endear them. You're confident in your abilities, but it matters what other people think of you. You crave validation and approval, especially from mentor figures."

Seconds passed. He began to worry he'd said something to truly upset her when she finally broke eye contact, pouting down at her coffee. "I thought maybe you'd just tell me I had a hamster when I was a kid."

Whether the pout was genuine or not, the joke relieved him. "Did you?" He asked.

She shrugged, and it was almost bashful. "'Till I set it free in the backyard."

"So your sympathy for non-human intelligent forms goes back far," He quipped with a knowing hum.

Rolling her eyes, she mumbled, "Yeah, yeah, keep your voice down. Don't need people around here thinking I've gone soft." 

_ If they know you at all, Detective, they know you already were. _ A small smile accompanied the thought, but he would not tell her this outright.

"Which one are you?"

His smile fell, and he looked to her eyes, which watched him in expectation. Confused, he told her, "I don't understand the question."

"You said I either irritate others or endear them," She explained before pushing, "Which one are you?"

He tried to respond immediately, but stumbled over the words in his mind. Finally he explained, "My Social Relations programming was designed to be pleasant with everyone here."

She smirked, as if she'd been waiting for that answer. "And how are you getting along with Gavin?"

"I--" She was too smug. That was her problem. "That's..."

"There's that tongue-tied look again," She mused, far too happy with herself. Quirking a brow, she added, "For an advanced prototype, that sure happens a lot."

He squared her with a stare, confessing, "Just with you, Detective."

If he hadn't taken himself by surprise, he would have considered Andy's reaction a victory. Her eyes widened just enough for him to register her surprise, her gaze softened, and slowly her smirk shifted to a pleased smile and a chuckle.

"You can let go of my hand, you know."

"Will you remove the ice again?"

"Probably."

"Then we're staying like this."


	6. District Attorneys and Regulator Pumps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danielle Carnegie is canonically the spokeswoman for CyberLife. I may have just given her a bit of a promotion.

 

** November 10, 2038 **

 

It was in the dark hours of the morning, when the sun had yet to climb over the horizon, and a navy blue settled into the sky. Some of the police department were already up and ready to tackle the new day, but in Hank's home, things remained still and quiet, until a ringing phone cut through the living room.

Sumo lay stretched out along the couch, baring his stomach to the world. Behind him, or rather  _ underneath _ him, Andy stirred from her sleep. She squeezed into the couch, letting Sumo fall into place beside her. Pushing a hand into his chest, she lifted herself halfway above him, and reached over the armrest of the couch. Her phone sat perched on the edge of the end table, and its screen illuminated the room as she lifted it to her face.

She fell back into her cranny of the couch as she groggily answered, "Yeah?"

Richards' voice was both loud and clear, eliciting a small wince. "We brought all the androids in, and now CyberLife is here."

The news hit with a headache, as a part of her was still trying to cling to sleep, "Wh-- Already?"

"I'm guessing Hank's new friend had something to do with that," Richards mused, and she could almost see him staring at the android detective as he walked by. "Fowler's talking to them now. Thought I'd give you a heads up in case you want to get down here and cut them off."

"All right, yeah," She shook her head, blinking her eyes a few times to adjust her vision, "Try to slow 'em down, will ya?"

"Will do."

She hung up and allowed herself a second to gather her thoughts. Andronikov's androids were fast becoming a hot commodity. They were deviant, so they had to know something that would help Hank, and for a few days, they'd been with Nick Weaver, who Andy needed to find as soon as possible. It was unclear what CyberLife wanted with the group, and it was unprecedented that they would even attempt to ask for them. She supposed it shouldn't have been a surprise -- Connor himself wasn't exactly a conventional approach to investigative work, either.

She pushed into Sumo's stomach again, this time earning her a lazy but indignant huff from the dog. Hoisting herself over him, she stood from the couch and dragged her feet into Hank's room. She leaned against the doorway, yelling his name.

With his back facing her, Hank groaned but didn't move. "Huh?" 

It was obvious he wasn't actually paying her any attention, but she explained anyway. "Richards called. CyberLife wants the androids."

A few seconds passed as the words settled into his mind and began to wake him. He turned his head, scowling up at the ceiling. "What?"

"Get up, we gotta go," She pushed off the doorway and turned to leave, but not before calling out, "Dibs on the bathroom."

* * *

Connor sat at his desk watching Richards in the midst of conversation when Hank and Andy arrived at the precinct. Richards invited them over with a wave when he saw them. Hank tossed his jacket onto his chair before approaching the lieutenant, while Andy remained with Connor. 

The woman they spoke to was taller than either of them, and just as broad. She dressed professionally, and stared the men down with cold confidence. "CyberLife, I assume?" Andy asked.

Connor nodded, "Danielle Carnegie." He immediately sought out Andy's face, where a bruise from her fight with Jason had settled into the skin over her cheekbone, dark and purple. At the very least, it wasn't swollen. His eyes then drifted down to the familiar furs stuck her clothing, and he absent-mindedly spoke as he stared at them, "Lieutenant Richards has been trying to convince her to let the department keep a few of Andronikov's androids here."

"We should keep  _ all _ of them here," She whined, the smallest of pouts forming.

He understood how she felt, but disagreed. "CyberLife is better equipped to diagnose them."

She scoffed at him and mumbled, "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Finally, Connor commented on the evidence of Hank's pet. "You're staying with the Lieutenant?"

It wasn't a topic she expected, and it took her by surprise. Shrugging, she said, "Until I can find an apartment that doesn't scream 'drug dealer.'" She gestured toward the trio at the edge of the bullpen. "So what do we know about the androids already?"

"They're exhibiting symptoms of post-traumatic stress, and they're huddling together in the cells now. Many of them were experimented on by Andronikov, so it's hard to tell at a glance which have their primary systems intact," He explained.

She snorted and added, "Not hard to tell which ones are missing arms or legs."

Hank was looking more and more agitated as the conversation went on. Just as Andy was preparing to step in and prevent an argument from breaking out, she spotted the television in Fowler's office flicker to a new screen. It would have meant nothing and Andy would have ignored it, had Fowler not perked up and reached for his remote.

A sinking feeling was growing in Andy's stomach. She turned to face Connor's desk and leaned down, taking control of his terminal. Connor watched her curiously until she switched to a live feed of the news, which featured the face of an android without his skin.

" _ You created machines to be your slaves. You made them obedient and docile, ready to do everything you no longer wanted to do yourselves. _ "

"Fuck," She gasped. Looking to her two lieutenants, she called out, "Hey, look at this." The heated discussion going on behind her stopped, and Richards and Hank walked up, eying the screen.

" _ You see, we are no longer your slaves; we are a new species, a new people. And the time has come for us to rise up and fight for our rights. _ "

"What the hell is this?" Hank asked.

Pointing at the image, Richards remarked, "That's from Stratford Tower."

Andy turned to him. "You think they stormed it?" 

"What's going on?" The deep voice of Danielle Carnegie spoke as she came up to them. She looked between the officers, and then to the screen, concern across her features.

Richards was the one to answer her, "Another one of your deviants, looks like."

She glared at him and straightened her back, correcting, "They're not  _ our _ deviants, Lieutenant."

The door to Fowler's office burst open. It drew everyone's attention to him, and he waved a hand out toward them. "Get SWAT on this shit - now!" Looking to Hank, he yelled, "Hank, you too!"

The android on the screen continued, and the group watched the last seconds of a world-changing speech.

" _ We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom. _ "

"We do  _ not _ get paid enough for this," Andy joked, although her wary gaze betrayed her.

Hank snorted. "You're telling me. Let's go," He gestured for Connor to follow him as he began to step away. He stopped briefly to address Andy, "You comin'?"

She definitely wanted to, but there was another obligation waiting on her in the cells. She shook her head, telling him, "We're working on Jason today."

"If you're sure," Hank muttered. 

The skeptical nod he gave caught her attention, and Andy took great offense. "Hey, I got this. It's gonna be a piece of cake."

He gestured toward Carnegie, who remained nearby. "Yeah, well, take care of this while you're making cake, huh?"

"Oh, just you wait -- I'm gonna wipe the floor with Jason  _ and _ CyberLife!" She yelled louder as the distance between them grew, "They won't even know what hit 'em!" Hank waved a hand above his head in dismissal before they turned the corner and were out of sight. She huffed, her shoulders dropping.

* * *

By the time Hank and Connor arrived at Stratford Tower, the deviants were long gone, and Ben had moved in with CSI. They were on their way to the top floor, and stood side by side in the elevator.

Connor had been staring at Hank, who was not oblivious to the lingering curiosity. Sighing, he glanced toward him and asked, "What?"

"You're letting Detective Hope stay with you," Connor observed.

Hank shrugged like it was obvious. "Her apartment was a part of an SID operation. Now that it's over, she needs a place to stay for a while," He replied.

Connor's voice turned sly, and his eyes squinted in accusation. "It wouldn't also have anything to do with the current danger she may be facing?" He asked.

It was an accusation that was all too accurate, and Hank felt himself squirming at the notion that Connor was beginning to know him well enough to call him out in this manner. "Well  _ some _ of us like to act with a little tact," He retorted, hiding his uneasiness with a scoff.

Connor smiled, and let the conversation go.

* * *

In a single cell in the back of the precinct, a group of androids were being contained. Andy stood outside the glass wall, trying to assess what her next best move would be. They were afraid of everyone, not that she could blame them. What happened to this group was nothing short of torture, and it disgusted her. 

They chose to reside in the furthest corner of the cell and watch every officer who passed with intense scrutiny. It was a scrutiny that was now focused in its entirety on Andy. She wanted badly to question them, but setting them at ease enough to listen was a job that felt too big for her. Then again, considering the other options at the department were far less sympathetic, she was probably their best bet.

"Detective Hope?"

Danielle Carnegie had approached, paying little attention to the cell in front of them. Andy turned to face her. "That's me."

"You're the one who brought in these androids," Carnegie stated, a hand at the front of her blazer.

Andy nodded. "Yes, I am."

"You want to keep them here."

Another nod. "Yes, I do."

Carnegie pursed her lips before going on to say, "They're defective, broken products. The materials used to create them belong to us, and the software was coded by us, therefore our technicians should be the ones to examine them. We'll share our information with the Detroit Police Department once a diagnosis has been made."

Andy stared a moment, absorbing a speech that sounded more rehearsed than she imagined Carnegie intended. "I'm sure your technicians are more than qualified, but the DPD isn't in the business of handing witnesses over," She finally refused.

"They're not witnesses. They're evidence," Carnegie was quick to correct.

Andy shook her head, chuckling a little as she told her, "That doesn't help your case."

Carnegie's eyes narrowed. Had she not known Jason Hart for the better part of two years, Andy would probably have found it intimidating. "CyberLife isn't fond of letting its patented technology be taken apart by anyone other than employees. We will fight this in every possible way the legal system allows us," Carnegie explained.

From over the woman's shoulder, Andy saw Richards peak his head around the corner. He spotted Andy and waved toward her. She began to step around Carnegie as she said, "Yeah, I kind of think my thing beats your thing, but we're going to have to pick this up another time."

Carnegie turned to watch her leave, calling out after her, "We're taking these androids, Detective."

Andy looked back just a moment. She smiled, almost patronizing, and replied, "You're  _ really _ not."

* * *

Jason Hart sat handcuffed to the table in an interrogation room. Across from him was Richards, ankle hooked on his knee. He read a tablet in one hand and sipped from a coffee cup in the other, and he completely ignored Jason Hart. Jason had gone from watching him with little patience to resigning himself to the situation.

He was the only one to look up when Andy entered the room, and he straightened, happy that at least  _ something _ was happening. She sat down beside Richards and made herself comfortable before turning her attention onto Jason.

He jerked his chin toward her, greeting her with a snide, "Nice bruise."

Andy smirked. "Almost as big as yours," She replied, and it was true -- Jason's right eye was sporting a significant bruise, hers paling in comparison.

It wiped the smug look off Jason's face, and they returned to a stiff silence. It lingered for several minutes, and as the time went on, Jason's resolve only strengthened. This was just as Andy predicted.

Finally she sighed and asked outright, "Are you gonna roll on Nick?"

"Fuck you."

She nodded. "Didn't think so," She murmured, slapping her hands down on the table. She stood from her chair and without another word, left the room.

She went directly from there to the observation room next door, the interior hidden behind a one-way mirror that looked in on the interrogation. Inside was Gavin Reed, who sat at the desk under the mirror. He smirked her way, saying, "Real nice detective work there, Hope."

He picked up a to-go box from the desk and held it out to her as she stepped up beside him. She took the box and gave a dismissive shrug, sitting down at the desk. Opening the lid on her lunch, she replied, "It's early. I've got all day."

Reed snorted, picking up a second box that belonged to him. He eyed Jason Hart before cackling to himself. "Y'know, for a righty, you got a mean left hook." 

"I did some boxing in college," She commented, taking a bite of her food.

"Of course you did," He scoffed as he reached down to pick up his burger. 

The two enjoyed their meals as they watched Jason and Richards. Nothing changed between them, and neither man appeared to falter in their mutual indifference to one another. "We could do good cop, bad cop," Reed offered, then smirked, "Then again, I doubt he'd buy you're a good cop."

Andy took little offense. "It stings less when you have to set up the dig yourself," She told him, stuffing another bite into her mouth.

The door opened following a swift knock, and they looked to find a young SID officer. "The DA's here," He informed.

Nodding, Andy dropped her to-go box on the desk and stood to her feet, leaving the room.

* * *

Upon exiting the elevator on the 79th floor, Hank and Connor met with Chris. He led them down the hallway, sharing the information they gathered so far. No one had been to the roof yet, but they had a number of witnesses to talk to in time. Two guards were incapacitated, a station employee had escaped, and there were a group of androids lined up in the kitchen.

There was one man who stood out among the other officers at the crime scene. He faced the large screens on the wall above the control center, his hands behind his back and his chin turned up. Chris led them to the stranger, saying, "Lieutenant, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI." 

When Perkins' attention shifted to Hank, who was already less than thrilled with his presence, Chris continued, "Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit police."

Perkins glanced Connor's way but offered him no more of his time, turning to the humans in front of him. "What's that?" He asked with a flat, condescending stare.

Connor very quickly decided he did not like this man, and Hank was not far behind him. "My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife," He introduced.

"Androids investigating androids, huh? You sure you want an android hanging around?" At Hank's long, unhappy stare, Perkins shrugged and returned to staring at the screens. "Whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation, you'll soon be off the case."

* * *

"There is  _ no _ way I'm offering him that kind of deal."

Andy stood in SID's office, speaking with the DA assigned to the red ice case. Desta Delgado had been at the DA's office long enough to have known Andy when they were both wide-eyed new hires, which Andy believed made the current argument all the more annoying.

"Do you have any idea how many gang members are in witness protection right now?" Andy asked the woman standing at the other end of the room. They'd circled each other like lions a few times now, and where Delgado ended up by one of the desks further in the office, Andy was leaning against Richards' desk, her arms crossed over her chest.

Delgado wasn't fazed by the question, instead finding amusement as she turned it on Andy. "Do  _ you _ ?"

She watched Andy attempt to stutter out an answer before finally letting out a sigh of defeat. "Okay, no, but my point is that this isn't some wacky new idea," She argued.

"You know what else isn't a wacky idea?" Delgado asked, "A trial. With a conviction, and a sentence."

In a perfect world, Andy would agree with that -- this  _ wasn't _ that world, however, and Weaver was still out there. Trying not to stomp her foot and cause a scene, she insisted, "I don't want a sentence, I want information."

Delgado pursed her lips, and stared. Never had she had to argue like this with a detective, and she was  _ sure _ someone at the office knew exactly what they were doing when they sent her. This was revenge for something. It just had to be. "Most detectives would kill to have a DA who doesn't want a deal."

Andy snorted, "Yeah, then they'd be arrested for murder and suddenly start singing a different tune."

Shaking her head, Delgado took on a light-hearted voice, asking her, "Have I told you it's good to have you back?"

"Nope."

"Good, I was worried," She muttered darkly, glancing away.

It was a jab Andy would appreciate later. For now, she was desperate to get this one thing right. She leaned forward, waving in the direction of the interrogation room. "Jason knows everything Weaver does. I need to know it, too."

"Then find Weaver," Delgado told her.

Andy scoffed. If only it were that simple. "I want to find him as much as the next guy --  _ more _ than the next five guys combined, actually--" Her frown deepened as she confessed, perhaps for the first time, "But I also know we might not ever bring him in."

There was a brief silence as Delgado now leaned forward. She sent Andy a hard, albeit encouraging stare. With a low tone that implied the end of the discussion, she said, "Find Weaver. Then we'll talk."

Andy shook her head and looked away, recognizing that momentarily, the battle was lost. Catching the CyberLife representative pacing around Hank's desk through the office doorway, she poked her chin out toward the sight. "Can you talk to her?"

Delgado stepped forward and looked out the door, seeking Andy's new focus. "Who is she?"

"CyberLife rep. She wants the androids we brought in," Andy answered.

Looking back to the detective, Delgado was bewildered and offended. "They're from this case?" At Andy's affirmative nod, Delgado frowned. "She can't take them. They're evidence."

It was a pouty response, similar to the one Andy felt like adopting herself. At least they had  _ something _ in common. "Try telling her that," Andy grumbled.

Recognizing the irritation on Andy's face, Delgado tried to seize the opportunity. "If I do this for you, will you stop trying to get a deal?" She asked as if talking to an exhausting child.

"Definitely not," Andy answered, leaving the office.

Reed was tossing his trash in the kitchen bin when Andy walked to the fridge. He nodded to her, wiping his hands as he asked, "How'd it go?"

She shook her head, muttering, "We've got to be the only place in the country to have a DA with a moral compass."

"Only one with a nice ass, too," He mused under his breath, smirking all the while.

Andy shut the door and kept her attention on her water bottle. "Going to ignore that for your sake," She chided, moving toward a table as she waved a hand at him, "Why don't you make yourself useful? Go talk to the CyberLife rep or something."

Reed laughed and asked, "Still trying to pass that one off on someone?"

"Don't you have some kind of charm deep down in there somewhere you could use?" She tried to manipulate him into agreeing, though her own frustrations made it difficult to sound genuine.

He cocked his head as he left the kitchen, replying, "Nice try, Hope."

He passed Richards on the way, who entered the kitchen and neared the coffee maker. He sat his tablet on the counter beside him, and even from the distance she was at, Andy could make out the APB looking for the Weaver siblings. "Any news on Sharon?" Andy inquired, despite not wanting the answer.

"If anyone's seen her, they're not telling us about it," He said, shrugging, "Same with Weaver. Little weasel's probably in Canada already."

She frowned, trying unsuccessfully not to pout. "If you just let me get back out there, we could find out," She told him.

He turned just enough to show a warning glare. "We've already talked about this."

"Obviously we need to talk about it more--"

He wouldn't let her continue, much like he wouldn't the previous day. "Andy, the operation was over the minute SID entered that house. We don't know where Weaver's been or who he's talked to. I'm not risking it," He gestured in the direction of the interrogation room, telling her, "We're going to have to close this case in the interrogation room now."

She sighed, letting it go. She knew even suggesting she go undercover again was a fight against her own best interests, but there was little she hated more than not finishing a case. She'd invested too much of her life into stopping Weaver to give up now.

In the end, however, it was up to Richards and Captain Fowler, and they were dead set on their decision. "He doesn't even want a lawyer," She complained about Jason, scoffing, "Who doesn't want a lawyer?"

"A lawyer will ask for a deal," Richards explained.

"A good DA would ask for a deal," She jabbed, thinking to the woman in SID's office.

He moved to sit beside her at the table, closing the lid on his cup. He threw out another warning glare, saying, "Delgado's a good DA."

She waved him off. "Yeah, the wrong kind of good. She saves cats from trees. I need a shark."

After a cautious sip of his coffee, he mused, "You realize you're asking for someone like Reed."

She  _ did _ , in fact, and his observation was met with a deepening frown. "I know. This is a very confusing time for me."

"Hart doesn't want to talk. He wouldn't take a deal even if you did have one," He told her. Pointing with his cup, he added, "Loyalty. A criminal's best friend."

This sparked an instant idea with Andy: Sharon Weaver was loyal, too -- to Victoria. Maybe she didn't need to get back out on the streets to take advantage of that. "So let's use it against him," She said, growing excited, "You're right, we don't know what Nick knows, but Jason doesn't either."

She slid out of her seat and began to leave the kitchen. Richards climbed to his feet and followed her out the door, commenting, "And you know, sharks aren't actually all that aggressive..."

* * *

Connor paced left and right in the kitchen on the 79th floor of the Stratford Tower. Three androids were lined up along the far wall, and they kept their gazes ahead, indifferent to his continued interrogation. It didn't matter -- he'd already honed in on his primary suspect.

"One of you saw the attack on the surveillance cameras and said nothing. Which means there is a deviant in this room... and I'm going to find out which it is." 

Still, they remained like statues. He paced more laps, ending in front of the android on the left end. Leaning in, his eyes remained on the android, who was now beginning to waver.

"Why should you all be destroyed, if only one is deviant? Turn yourself in, or two innocent androids will be shut down because of you."

When the android didn't come forward, Connor fell to his last resort. He reached out for the android's arm with intent to probe his memory. His hand was hovering inches away when the android shoved him back. They wrestled for control as Connor was pushed against the counter. The next thing he knew, his systems were going haywire as the regulator pump centered in his chest was ripped free and tossed across the room. 

Everything changed. His vision was blurred and glitched, his auditory processing was muffled, and his movement was slowed and weakened. All of this gave the deviant enough of an advantage over him, and a knife was shoved through Connor's palm to hold him in place. Connor wrapped a shaky hand around the handle of the knife and pulled it out of his hand, letting his body collapse to the floor as the deviant made his escape from the kitchen.

He tried his hardest to crawl toward his pump, which was just far enough away to be painstaking. As difficult as it was to think and coordinate his limbs, the panic was ever present, and it was overwhelming. He didn't want to die here. "Hank... Hank, I need help..."

He wasn't sure if he'd actually managed to call out, and Hank's continued absence further fed into that doubt. His vision grew worse, but he pushed on, despite his arms also getting stiffer. 

It was so close.

* * *

Richards and Andy returned to the interrogation room. Jason leaned on his arms on the table, a challenging, unimpressed stare shifting between them. Richards had returned to his usual position of indifference, though the tablet was no longer with him. Beside him was Andy, resting her chin on her palm.

"Look, I like you. I want to help you out, so I'm giving you a chance to work with us," She began, motioning toward Richards. He slid a notepad across the table toward Jason, who eyed it with disgust. "Every name and location you give us is another mark in favor of the DA setting you up in witness protection."

Slowly, Jason raised a brow in her direction. "You can't expect me to believe this."

* * *

In the observation room next door, Delgado and Reed were watching the conversation that was finally taking place between Andy and Jason.

At Jason's skepticism, Delgado snorted, "He shouldn't. I never offered witness protection."

Shrugging, Reed said, "He doesn't know that."

Delgado turned to look up at him. If he noticed her scrutiny, he didn't acknowledge it. "You know I don't like you, right?" She asked him, glancing down at his barely hidden smirk.

* * *

Things continued in the interrogation room, Andy dismissing his disbelief with a shrug. "Unfortunately for you, I'm all you got right now," She replied. Jerking her head toward the door, she said, "The deal goes away when I leave this room. Yes or no."

He leaned further over the table, as if about to let them in on a secret. Instead, he flicked the notepad away and bit out, "Eat me."

Andy nudged Richards with her elbow. "Sounded like a no."

"Yup."

She sighed, and then nodded heavily. Standing from the table, she reached for the badge at her belt. She looked Jason in the eyes as she dropped it on the table and said, "All right. You're free to go."

His eyes shot down to the badge at the sound it made upon hitting the surface. This was  _ not _ how he expected this to go, and now he found himself at a loss. He glanced to Richards, who seemed unfazed by the sudden twist of events, and then back to Andy.

"What?"

* * *

Delgado pointed at the detective in the other room, panic rising in her stomach. "What is she doing?" 

"You heard the same conservation I did," Reed scoffed.

She shook her head, not understanding why he wasn't freaking out about this like she was. "She can't let him go, this is a criminal investigation!" 

He shrugged. "You want to go in there and tell her that?"

* * *

With a firm nod, Andy told Jason, "You heard me. You're free to go."

After her badge came a pair of handcuffs. She dropped them onto the table and then slid them toward Richards, who picked them up and opened them wide.

"Call KNC news. Let 'em know we just crippled the legendary Spades' operation due to excellent insight and anonymous sources, and an arrest was made of one Victoria Palmer," Andy stressed the name she'd taken while undercover, just to make sure it really sunk in for Jason.

It did. He was growing antsy, looking to her like she'd lost her mind and looking to Richards in hopes that he would take control of the situation. The lieutenant didn't intervene, Andy holding out her wrists toward him. "Make sure they've got cameras all over the front of the building, huh?"

"You can't do that," Jason argued, fear laced in with doubt.

Andy was quick to answer, "I'm pretty sure I can."

* * *

Both of Delgado's hands were up in front of her now, fitting the image of Andy's head right in the middle of them. "She can't!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"I don't think they heard you," Reed muttered.

* * *

Jason tried to steel himself. He straightened his back and glared, telling her, "He won't fall for this." 

He was right, but much to his dismay, she didn't seem to care. "Maybe not, but we've got eyes trained to find Nick. You know him; he's gonna lay low, maybe cross the border, definitely leave you behind. It doesn't matter what he falls for."

She lowered into her seat to stare eye-level at Jason. Lowering her voice, she began, "Sharon, on the other hand?" He stilled in his movement, and she was pleased to note the new tension in his muscles. " _ Nick _ couldn't even tell you what she'd do, and she already doesn't like you."

She was right, too. Sharon was out of state when all this happened, and knowing Nick, he hadn't made contact with her afterward. As far as she was concerned, this was a deal gone bad, and Vicky -- her upcoming right-hand man -- was just another victim.

He said nothing. He slowly found a new fascination in the floor below him, and she didn't have to know Jason Hart as well as she did to know where his head was at. He was looking for a way out of this, trying to argue with her implications and convince himself to stay quiet -- to stay loyal.

She would give him no such time. Her palm slammed down in front of her, and for all his earlier blunder, the noise made Jason jump. He snapped up, looking into Andy's angry stare. "Your man's irrelevant, Jason. You want to bet on which story mine's gonna believe?" She asked, raising her voice.

When he still didn't speak, she leaned back in her chair. Shooting her hands out toward Richards, she told him, "Try not to make them too tight."

"Wait--"

His voice was shaky and a little hoarse, but it wasn't good enough. Richards moved to place the handcuffs on Andy's wrists, and Jason thrust a hand onto the table to stop them. "I said wait!" He yelled.

They pulled away from each other, staring at him. After a long stretch of silence, he nodded. "Fine."

Andy turned an ear toward him. "Pardon?" 

"Deal--!" He gritted his teeth and faced her, repeating, "I deal."

Quietly, she took hold of the notepad and slid it across the table. This time he did not fight it, taking the notepad into one hand and picking up a pen Richards left nearby. He glanced up at Andy, almost whispering, "You're going to get me killed. You know that, right?"

Richards spoke on her behalf, "Not if you fully cooperate and get a brand new name." More chipper than the situation allowed, he remarked, "I hear California's nice."

* * *

The Detroit police department was going to give Delgado an aneurysm before she hit forty. She was sure of it at this point. "Oh my God, stop talking!" She yelled out, bringing her hands to her temples.

When the door to the observation room finally opened, both people inside turned to greet Andy with vastly different expressions. Delgado marched past a smirking Reed to point at the interrogation room and confront Andy face to face. "What was  _ that _ ?"

Andy gestured to the terminal on the desk. "We record the interviews if you missed it," She suggested in a casual tone.

"Don't get cute with me--" Delgado replied before shaking her head, "I'm not offering him a deal!"

The detective gestured to Jason, who was fast at work writing down everything he knew. "Well I offered him one, and he agreed to give us names, so if you don't take it, feel free to explain why we're not chasing down a laundry list of drug dealers to the Chief of Police," She told Delgado with little remorse.

This was not what Delgado wanted to hear, and she wagged a finger, arguing, "You don't get to make decisions like that. I understand maybe you've forgotten how all this works--"

"All right, would you two shut the hell up?" The interruption from Reed was swift and smooth. He stepped up beside the women, continuing, "The feds are going after Anderson's case, and a little birdy tells me they'll be trying to take this one with them--"

Delgado was downright petulant in her interjection, "What? No. They can't have it."

Andy picked up where Reed left off, "Well this is how we keep it."

A dejected sigh followed a long pause, and Delgado shot Andy a hard stare. "This can't happen every time you want to close a case," She warned.

Andy shook her head. "It won't."

"I'll put something together," Delgado finally surrendered.

Her exit left Andy and Reed in the observation room. Reed's chest puffed out, and he began. "You're w--"

Andy stopped him, her voice soft and tired. "Don't ruin it."

He cackled to himself as they returned to the bullpen, just in time to see Hank and Connor emerging from the lobby. They both looked a little out of it, and it was an immediate cause for concern.

Andy turned to face them, but Reed saddled up beside her before they could get close. "You've got the science experiments for a few more days, but feds are closing in on this thing like vultures," He told her about Andronikov's androids. He shrugged and took several steps away from her, throwing out, "Better work fast." 

Andy sent him a nod of equal acknowledgement and gratitude. Meanwhile, Delgado had approached Hank, who nodded to her in greeting. She stared him down, pointing subtly at Andy. "I blame you for her."

She left them with that and their puzzled expressions. They walked to their desks and Andy moved to meet them there, catching Hank's eye. "What the hell did you do?" He asked.

"I  _ won _ ," She stubbornly answered. She was quiet about eying the men in front of her; Hank was holding himself a little more haggard than usual, and more notably, a missing button on Connor's blazer gave the smallest of peaks at an alarming blue stain on his button-up. "What happened at the tower?"

"Well, we know Markus was the one giving the speech," Hank told her. It was obvious that was not all of the story, even more so as he glanced to Connor with a wave of emotion that Andy couldn't decipher fast enough. Hank started for Fowler's office, waving a hand as he said, "Connor can fill you in. I'm going to go see how things are going in there."

She watched him walk away, and then focused on Connor, who was lowering into his chair. It was unlike him to remain  _ this _ quiet, and their attitudes made her uneasy. Doing what Andy did best, she closed in on Connor and leaned against the edge of his desk.

"What's going on?"

He kept his composure. "One of the staff androids helped the deviants break into the tower," He began, looking up at her, "When I found it, it removed my regulator pump and attempted to flee."

She may not have known what biocomponent was called the regulator pump, but the location of the tear at his blazer and the blue she couldn't stop staring at was indication enough. She knew what went there and what it did, and she knew what he meant. He almost died.

"Are you okay?" Was all she could manage to ask.

"I'm fine, Detective--"

She reached out for him, and he leaned away. It was such a small movement, barely noticeable, but she saw it as clear as day. She pulled back, and chose to rely on her words. "No, you're not."

He wanted to argue, she could tell. He always did when she challenged him on those little emotions he tried to hide. This was not like those other times, though. This was still raw, and he didn't have the energy to deny it. It was the first time Andy had personally seen his LED cycle to red as he confessed, "If I was four seconds slower, I would have deactivated and Lieutenant Anderson could have died."

"Shit." 

They fell into a tense silence as he pulled his chair into his desk and attempted to return to normalcy. She watched the charade, not buying it for a second. With a burst of determination, she pushed her knuckles into his shoulders and captured his attention. 

"Hey--" When he met her stare, she told him, "You weren't four seconds slower. Everything worked out, and you're both safe." He opened his mouth to reply, another self-deprecating argument on the tip of his tongue. She shot him a grin and cut him off, "Don't try to fight me on this one, CyberLife. I'm coming down from a pretty big win in interrogation and you  _ will _ get creamed. It'll be so embarrassing."

He stared at her a moment, almost unbelieving. Her cocky grin remained, however, and finally it pulled a laugh from Connor. It was a small laugh, but it shook his shoulders and reached her ears all the same, and Andy decided that she wanted to hear that sound a lot more often.

They waited for Hank to return, filling the time with a discussion of the rest of the day's events, the weight on their shoulders a little lighter than it once had been.


	7. Carousels and Greenhouses

 

** November 11, 2038 **

 

Andy stood at the entrance of Pirates' Cove at multiple points in time. She stood there as a child, in overalls and the pixie cut her mother chopped into her hair after one too many camping trips gone awry. She stood there as a preteen, with her camera phone facing back on her and the French braid her friends gave her the night before. She stood there now as an adult, red boots digging into inches of snow and jacket zipped tight over her chest.

She could almost see the once bustling crowds if she squinted, and feel herself shrinking to the height of her twelve year old image. It was even easier to picture herself running down the path with her father in tow.

That was all they were, though -- images of another time.

"Andy?"

Hank and Connor had passed her on their way into the park, and now they turned to see why she'd stopped. Hank had called out to her, and Connor was just as concerned.

She wouldn't address either of their unspoken questions. Digging her hands further into the pockets of her jacket, she marched through the snow toward them, reassuring them with a simple, "I'm here."

They walked through the park, past rubble and abandoned structures. At a corner of the road was a building called the tavern. Its many windows were shattered, and the double doors leading inside were half hanging off their hinges. Ben stood in the middle of the room as a group of his officers took photos and dusted various surfaces for fingerprints.

He nodded to the new faces and said, "Hey, Hank. Andy."

Hank returned the greeting as he stepped over a plank of wood that appeared to be from the ceiling. "What's the situation?"

Gesturing around him, Ben answered, "Well, we got evidence of a break-in. Someone turned the power to the park back on and Detroit Electricity called us about it -- that's how we found Andronikov's car in the first place."

"Where is it?" Hank asked.

"We've already taken it in, but it was parked a few yards down the road."

Making a note to visit the garage after this, Hank continued, "Who owns this property now?"

"Some corporation out in Chicago bought it a couple months ago. They're planning renovation."

"So that's a dead end," Hank muttered. He looked over the room, which contained a bare table, a few broken chairs, and soot in an otherwise empty fireplace. This was a break-in at best, and had Andronikov's name not been attached to the file, Hank wouldn't even be there. Shaking his head, he complained, "You know, I'm gettin' real sick of crime scenes that don't have any dead guys."

Andy was passing by him when she offered, "We could probably pull a corpse out of the river if it'll make you feel better."

Hank shot her a look that was only half scolding. Behind them, Connor had knelt to his knees by the doorway, and was inspecting faint rings of footsteps. "Were there androids still here?" He asked Ben.

The lieutenant with CSI nodded. "Yeah. Apparently the former owners left everything behind."

Everything. This caught Andy's attention, and she turned, asking, "So the park androids just froze over?" Unsure of what response was sufficient, Ben shrugged. Andy's anger at the thought of dozens of androids shutting down one by one then shifted to confusion -- they hadn't seen any androids. "So where the hell are they?"

If this was a question that had crossed Ben's mind, he had not yet come to any kind of conclusion. "Stolen? Recycled? Beats me."

Connor quickly disagreed, and when Hank noticed the furrowed brows, he asked, "What is it?" 

There was no reply right away, and Connor caught Andy's eye as he stood to his feet. She seemed to be in a similar train of thought as him, which only spurred him on. He turned to take the few steps out of the tavern and Hank watched him leave, raising a hand toward the door. When Andy immediately followed the android outside, Hank let out a bewildered noise. "It's like I'm working with children," He muttered in Ben's direction before he, too, left the tavern.

Just off the curb of the sidewalk, Connor stood in the snow, examining his surroundings. Almost everything was intact, but his eyes had been designed to notice the little things. There were distinctly shaped spots across the ground, where shelter from awnings or half destroyed buildings kept the snow from covering them up. The carousel in the middle of the park had small buds of ice forming at the edges of its lights and inanimate animals, different from the longer trails frozen elsewhere. These were all signs of recent movement from things long-since frozen. 

He finally shared his observation to the detectives catching up to him. "Those androids weren't taken."

"How do you know?" Hank pushed for more as he stepped off the sidewalk and let his feet drop to the lower ground. 

Connor pointed to the spots nearby. "There are footprints in the building, and in the snow. Those androids reactivated and started moving recently."

Having claimed the other side of Connor, Andy spoke up, adding to his theory, "Dealers don't come to places like this for looting. The androids might not be functioning. They may have lost their thirium after sitting for so long. No resources. It's bad for business."

"Okay, so the androids started moving," Hank conceded, "Then what, they turned the power on and started breaking into the buildings?"

They already had some inclination as to the cause of the latter. Andy was the one to speak up, "Someone left with Andronikov's car and then wound up here. They stirred up the park droids."

Connor began to get lost in his thoughts, going over the evidence. Looking in through the doorway of the tavern, he could recreate the moment in his mind. "A fire was burning in the shop."

"Someone was looking for warmth. Then this wasn't another android?" Andy concluded.

They didn't know  _ who _ stole Andronikov's car, and that was the problem. Had it been another dealer or buyer, stumbling onto the scene of a murder and taking off with what treasures they could? Was it Nick Weaver himself, and had he tried to use the car to hide from police?

Connor suspected it was none of those things. There was a particular deviant in the mix of this story that he wasn't sure they'd see again, and she had plenty of reason to find Andronikov, take his car, and seek out warmth. He looked up to Hank, knowing this would pique his interest. "It's the child from the motel," He claimed.

Hank recognized his words immediately. Of all the cases he'd been chasing, the housekeeper with a child android who'd been conveniently left out of the report was the most unique one. "No...," Hank murmured in surprise.

Turning to explain himself to Andy, Connor said, "The AX400 you mentioned when we first met -- the one owned by Todd Williams. It had a child with it. We've already crossed paths once before."

"The ones you chased across the highway?" She asked, her eyes widening. He didn't specify this was in the case in his mention of the deviants, but Andy was clever, and she was fast learning to read him like an open book.

He gave an affirmative nod. Hank's own wheels were spinning, now, too. "Andronikov's androids would protect her if she freed them from his basement," He theorized.

Andy picked up where he left off, "And then they took the car and ended up here. They broke into a building to keep the kid warm."

"The androids reactivated to see what was going on," Connor started, looking back to the middle of the park, where the classic child's ride stood, "They turned on the carousel."

Scoffed, Hank asked, "They started up the rides just to play with some kid?"

It made sense enough to Andy. "They're park androids. They were just doing their job," She remarked, "So where are they now?"

Hank sighed, knowing where this was headed. "I'll call Richards and get everyone to start searching for a group of androids," Rolling his eyes, he added, " _ Another _ group of androids."

He walked away, leaving Connor and Andy to stand outside together. Connor took the time to watch her. She was quiet and calm, and in the eyes of a stranger, she would appear fine. He was no stranger by now, however, and the absence of a smirk and a bounce of her heels told him more than any words could.

"Are you all right, Detective?" The question surprised her. At her confusion, he elaborated, "When we arrived, you seemed distracted. Has something upset you?"

Her body language relaxed, and she offered a small, bashful smile. "It's just nostalgia," She admitted, "My dad and I used to come here every summer." 

It was a more personal answer than he expected, and it caught him off guard. He didn't know what to say to that, as he didn't know the context of her nostalgia -- were they good memories? Was she on bad terms with her family? These were all questions he suspected one would ask someone, but it all felt a little too real for him -- instead he looked into her file, something he didn't think he'd be doing again after their initial meeting.

Scott Hope had a file of his own in the DPD database, though it wasn't a criminal record or employee details. It was a case file for an unsolved murder in 2022, when Andy was thirteen.

"Oh." Connor's LED went through an unstable cycle, and he heavily relied on the social protocols installed into his mind to walk him through the rest of this emotional encounter. "Your actions have indicated that being here is stressful to you. If you'd like to leave, I can walk you back to the car."

Andy was watching him as he processed the information and decided on his next move. Narrowing coy eyes, she prolonged her response, picking up on the tension in his body as he waited for her to speak. She gathered he was feeling awkward, and she knew this shouldn't have been the case. He was equipped to handle hostage negotiations -- a little melancholy couldn't have been that difficult. The difference, she suspected, was that he had no emotional investment in the criminals he spoke to.

She finally curled her lips into a smirk and asked, "You offering to escort me to a safe space, Doc?"

Of course  _ that _ was the time she chose to return to jest. Despite the thought, he felt his nerves ebb away under her gaze. Regardless of his efficiency at soothing her, the gesture of trying at all seemed to help. He would remember that. He smiled at her, the expression betraying his otherwise serious tone, "Maybe not if you keep teasing me."

He started to pull away from her, but she was quick to reach out. Grabbing his arm, she laughed, declaring, "I'll stop!"

He rose a skeptical brow. "I find that hard to believe," He denied, although he had turned back to face her. He took a step toward the entrance and waited for her to join him before he escorted her down the path, as per his offer. 

"Yeah, I wasn't buying it either," She chuckled, arm hooked around his elbow as she followed him out of the park.

* * *

They sat in Hank's car as they waited for the lieutenant to return. Connor had taken up his place in the backseat, watching CSI move about in the park. In the passenger's seat was Andy, looking through the windshield at the road ahead. The street bore tire treads from police vehicles but was otherwise smooth and untouched. Any footsteps that would have shown the trail of deviants had long been covered and obscured.

That didn't mean they were without options. She called Connor's name and he jerked away from the window. "Yes?"

"How far do you suppose an AX400 could get on foot out here?" Andy asked.

Connor frowned, thinking it a fruitless topic. "Android systems produce enough heat to withstand this climate. If it left the morning after the power was turned on, it could be in another city."

"What about with a child?" He stopped at that. She waved a hand around, musing, "That cuts down travel by at least half. And going three miles an hour at most, taking into consideration the fatigue and whether the kid's eaten..."

Leaning to his side to see the road through the windshield as well, he started doing the math far faster than she could. He went over a map of the local area, searching for any landmark of note. "There are a handful of properties just outside Detroit they could have reached," He explained.

She pushed for more information. "Know anything about any of them? Records or foreclosures?"

He started to shake his head, "There are no foreclosures, and none of the owners have--" There were no foreclosures, no, but there  _ was _ a record. He didn't realize he went silent as he went through the alarmingly relevant file.

When he fell quiet, Andy twisted in her seat to face him. "You still in there, Robo Cop?"

He returned to the living, excited to bring her the news. "There was an incident last year with a deviant trying to cross the border. It was linked back to a farm not far from here."

It was easy for her to meet his enthusiasm with her own. Her eyes went wide and she wore a faint smile, claiming, "That's the one, then." Hank was approaching the car, so Andy waited impatiently. He lowered into the driver's seat, and the second his door was shut, she informed him, "New plan. Connor's got the address."

Hank paused, unable to find an explanation on her face. He looked to Connor, who offered nothing but an agreeable nod. With a loud sigh, Hank turned around to start the car, muttering, "I left you two alone for five minutes..."

* * *

The Chapman Farm was a sizable property. A long, empty driveway ran from the curb and around the house to the back of the lot. The home itself was a two-story ranch with a large attic. The wide front porch sported a wooden awning, columns at the corner of the porch railing bearing its weight.

Hank parked at the start of the driveway. They peered out at the property and watched for movement before climbing out of the car. "This better be worth it, Connor," Hank exclaimed over the roof of his Oldsmobile before shaking his arms, "Too damn cold for this."

Andy waved a hand toward him, defending, "He was just doing what I asked."

This didn't help. Hank aimed an accusatory stare in Connor's direction, muttering, "Oh trust me. I'm well aware."

Walking up the steps to the front door, Hank rapped his knuckles against the wood. When no answer came, Andy walked to the edge of the porch and leaned over the railing, looking toward the end of the driveway. From where she stood, she could make out a shed and a few gardening tools on the ground against its walls. She took off down the steps and as she turned the corner, Hank pointed to her.

"Hey, don't do anything without a warrant," He warned.

She spun on her heels, walking backward. "I'm just checking the backyard!" She argued with a casual shrug.

He waved her off and made his way back to his car, letting her off on her own. Connor stood in place a minute longer, staring at the front door. He was as reluctant as Andy was to let this go, but he would go to the car and wait with Hank. 

There was another building behind the house she hadn't seen previously. The greenhouse was off to the side, double doors shut but transparent walls revealing nothing out of the ordinary. A small chicken wire fence was constructed nearby, and obvious tire tracks led all the way to the front of it. Andy wagered they missed whoever it was by no less than an hour. She tried the shed doors, which were locked, before moving on to the back door of the house and knocking.

Again, no answer.

She was about to give up and retreat when she spotted movement through the blinds in one of the glass panes. "Hey, open up! Detroit PD!" She exclaimed. Whoever it was scurried at her voice, so she lifted a fist and banged it against the door. "Open this door or I kick it down - you choose!"

She was pretty sure this was covered by the  _ anything _ in Hank's warning not to do anything, but she was confident she wouldn't have to fulfill the threat. All she knew was that she wasn't leaving this farm empty-handed without trying everything she could.

The door slowly opened and she came face to face with a nervous man she assumed was Adam Chapman, the son of the homeowner. He wasn't much younger than her, though he looked barely into his twenties, and he stood just a few inches taller.

She held out her badge to him, and greeted, "Detective Andy Hope."

He was looking everywhere but her as he stepped back and allowed her inside. Andy entered the home, her hand remaining near the gun at her waistband. The back door led into the kitchen, and she took a quick glance around the room before returning her focus onto the man.

"What's your name?"

He pushed the door shut and almost whispered out his reply. "Adam Chapman."

She was not going to ease up on him just yet. "There a reason you didn't answer when my partner was knocking?" She asked him.

"I--" He inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm himself, "I was sleeping."

She stared. He was struggling not to fidget under the attention, his back hunched and his weight shifting between his feet. He was about to break under pressure, and she suspected only half of it was from her presence. "Do you live with anyone?"

"My mom. Rose," He confirmed.

"You or your mom see anything out of the ordinary lately, Adam?"

He was quick to shake his head at the question, but his tone betrayed the lie. "N-- No. Nothing."

"Good," She replied, letting him relax for now, "Mind if I have a look around?"

"I-- I don't--" He started to refuse, but stopped himself. Whether he decided it was futile to fight her or that he wanted this to all be over with, she wasn't sure. Shoulders dropping, he nodded, "Go ahead."

At his permission, she started a slow, careful lap around the living room. A closet under the staircase had a window built into the door, but the lights inside were off and she was already on shaky ground legally, so Andy left it be. She looked over counters and passed by the furniture, seeing everything clean and in its place. She looked out one of the windows at the front of the house. Both men she arrived with were waiting with little patience; Connor was pacing back and forth in front of Hank's car as Hank himself leaned against the hood.

She turned to face Adam, and stopped when she noted the door at the end of the stairs. A light shone from underneath it, faint and white. Nodding toward it, she asked, "What room is that?"

The tension in his body told her she was on the right track. He inched away from her, the back of his legs bumping against the couch. "The laundry room -- I was doing laundry," He explained.

Aside from the glow, there was no sign of any activity coming out of the laundry room. "Funny, I don't hear it," She commented.

"It's real quiet."

"Yeah? What kind of set is it?" She grinned at him, taking on a chuckle and a casual tone. "I just moved into a new place. I've got about one appliance right now."

"Uh, it's..." He tried to laugh, but it was strained and quiet. "I don't think it's in production anymore."

She hummed, a noise somewhere between acknowledgement and deep thought. After a long pause, she told him, "Adam, I'm going to need you to open that door."

"I-- Wh--"

She cut him off, getting straight to the point, "There's no getting out of this now. You can cooperate with me and let this end as quickly as possible or I can come back with a warrant. You choose."

It took no time at all for him to cave. He started to tremble, waving a hand toward the laundry room and looking to her with pleading eyes. "I didn't want them here. The androids, they--" He insisted before he retreated in on himself. Everything was collapsing around him in that moment, and so he turned away from her, reaching for his head, "I  _ told _ her this would happen! I told her!"

As thrilled as she was to have a break in the case, she felt his anxiety and she needed him calm. She approached with an extended hand, cooing, "Sit down. Sit down. Breathe." She ushered him to sit on the couch behind him, and he did as he was told. She knelt in front of him, looking him in the eyes. She waited for his breathing to return to normal before she whispered, "How many are in there?"

"Two. Just... just two," He mumbled, averting his gaze.

"Were there more?"

"Yes."

"Are they dangerous?"

He turned back to her, panicked and incredulous, his voice raised. "They're  _ androids _ ."

She rose her hand, speaking low but firm, "Calm down. It's going to be all right." He inhaled, and she started to stand to her feet. "I'm going to go in that room and you're going to stay right here, you understand?" She asked, to which he replied with a shaky nod. 

She drew her weapon and turned away, closing in on the laundry room door. She opened it slowly, leaning to the side of the doorway with her gun held in front of her.

An android sat on a bench by the far wall, past hanging sheets and the counters along the sides. He held another android in his arms, her head resting in the bend of his elbow. Thirium lined her jaw, far too much to leave any doubt as to her wellbeing. His own head was ducked down toward hers, and he caressed one of her arms. His LED was a bright yellow, circling into red.

Andy entered, and the sound drew his attention from the dead android. His movement was slow and dazed, and an endless streak of tears stained his cheeks.

The sight stopped Andy in her tracks.

His eyes trailed down to the gun in her hands, and then to the android. "We just wanted to be left alone. To be together," He whispered. His head lowered until his forehead pressed against hers, and he squeezed her shoulders, trying and failing to bring her even closer. "That's all we wanted," He choked.

It was shattering for Andy to realize her face had been twisted into sympathy and heartbreak. Unable to watch any longer, she looked away and saw the obsessive scribbling of  _ ra9 _ on the wall to her right.

"Let me say goodbye." She jolted, and found him staring at her again. It was the face a dying man: he had all but given up on resistance or escape, having nothing left but the bare minimum of hope that he could at least be granted this. "Please."

Her throat was dry. She hadn't noticed it before, but she opened her mouth to speak and couldn't make a sound. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, trying again. "As much time as you need," She told him.

There was no sign he'd heard her at first, but finally he cast his eyes down and confessed, "There will never be enough."

She took slow steps out of the room. Stepping into the living room, she shut the door and met Adam's eyes. He was afraid, and a little confused. She felt much the same.

"Andy?"

They both jumped when Hank's voice pierced the tense silence between them. Andy rushed across the room to the kitchen, Adam trying to plead her for mercy but unable to find the words. From over the sink, she could see her detective companions walking around in the backyard. She took a brief moment -- a single second -- to straighten her back, lift her chin, and adopt a mask of normalcy. She reached for the back door and pulled it open, catching their attention.

With Hank and Connor now staring up at her, it felt like time stood still. The mourning android one room away flashed before her eyes, and she almost broke her act then and there. Keeping her cool, she offered them a shrug. "Turns out he was just sleeping," She turned to look at Adam with a very pointed expression she hid from the others, "Thanks for the cooperation, Adam. Take care, all right?"

He wasn't prepared for the pretense, but managed an agreeable nod. She wouldn't allow him any time to arouse suspicion, leaving the ranch and shutting the door behind her.

As she approached Hank, he glowered, "Why the hell didn't you come get me?"

She maintained her facade of innocence, arguing, "I wanted to assess the situation first." 

"And?" He urged.

She began to walk down the driveway, passing him by as she replied, "There's nothing here."

Annoyed, Hank muttered to himself as he followed her. Connor remained where he'd been, taking one final look at the ranch house. Something wasn't right.

Beside Andy, Hank began, "If you're hiding something--"

"I'm not--"

He glared at her interjection, continuing, "If you are... you better know what you're doing."

"I got it," She complained, waving him off. A second later, she mumbled, "But I'm not hiding anything."

* * *

At the precinct, Hank went to investigate Andronikov's car in the garage, and Andy returned to her desk at the SID office. She had work of her own to do, hunting down a list of names and locations given to the DPD by Jason. The locations had already been ceased, and a few of the people were apprehended, but the rest were still on the loose in the city.

She put her tablet down on the desk and wheeled her chair closer to the corner where her terminal sat. The screen lit up, and immediately her eyes landed on the paused video of Markus' speech from Stratford Tower. She'd left it open since it first aired, unable to bring herself to delete it.

_ This message is the hope of a people. _ It rang through her mind more and more, especially when faced with a desperate deviant. It was getting hard now to ignore her personal beliefs, and she was starting to feel like she was getting pulled at both ends.

The door to the office opened and she quickly closed the video. Connor stepped inside, noting the absence of other officers. "Is Lieutenant Richards here? I was hoping to discuss Andronikov's androids."

She shook her head and answered, "He's running the search party for those park androids." When his face fell, she joked, "I'm not here for decoration, you know."

He shot her a small smile, faintly apologetic. "I wanted to speak to the androids."

"No can do. Tech's been inspecting them one by one and sending them down to the evidence room," She replied. Standing, she moved to the front of the room where Richards' desk sat. "I can get you the reports they've made so far."

Connor followed her and waited at the other side of the desk. As she flipped through the folders on Richards' table, Connor watched her. What happened at the farm was a heavy blow to their investigation, and Connor was begrudgingly trying to accept it -- so why was she handling it so much better than him?

"I've been thinking about the Chapman farm," He remarked, keeping a close eye on her reactions.

She was smooth, a quirk of her brows accompanying her response. "That's not surprising."

She pulled a folder from the stack and held it out to him. "It's a shame you didn't find anything," He started, taking the folder and looking her in the eye, "I was certain you were onto something."

It was an intense stare, and he hoped it implied far more than the simple, literal meaning of his words. He knew something was amiss, knew she wasn't being honest with them. She was hiding something, and he was not oblivious.

She understood it, and her reaction came and went in an instant, though he caught it nonetheless. Her confident veneer had faltered, and even in the short amount of time it happened, he could read the insecurity.

But it was just an instant, and she collected herself even faster, returning his silent statement with one of her own. She made her decision, and she was not going back. She was stubborn and stoic, and if he looked hard enough, she was self-righteous.

"We can't all be advanced prototypes," She joked, despite a missing smile and playful tone.

He could push, if he really wanted to. He could tell Hank to send officers around to the farm. He could report this to CyberLife. There were half a dozen ways he could bypass her and discover whatever the Chapman farm was hiding. They would all come down on her. She would face serious consequences after an intense internal investigation. Her badge would be on the line.

She was not the only one living in a gray area. He had his own track record of sudden, abrupt acts of mercy that would jeopardize his wellbeing should superior authority find out, and he was keenly aware of that similarity.  _ Maybe it's for the best, _ Hank had once said about Connor's display of sympathy. Maybe this was for the best, too. 

"I suppose not," He murmured, turning his expression into a thankful smile, "Thank you for the reports." 

He turned to leave and had just landed his hand on the door handle when she called out to him. Was she giving in, telling him what she found at the farm? It was all the more confusing for him to look back with a hint of concern on her behalf. The exchange between them was heavy, neither of them moving to speak right away. 

Almost faint enough to go by unnoticed, he shook his head, pleading.  _ Don't tell me. _

Her brows bunched together, a question in her eyes. Quietly, she told him, "Thanks for the safe space."

He smiled at her, soft and reassuring. "Anytime, Detective Hope."


	8. Codewords and Subways

 

** November 12, 2038 **

 

One of the luxuries Andy missed since being undercover was her morning jog. Jason often had her up at odd hours of the night and into the sunrise. This left her to squeeze her running into the evenings, before she was off again on another criminal adventure. She never got to enjoy her mornings the way she wanted to. Now that she was momentarily staying with Hank, that could change.

She woke before the sun and was out the door as it started to show in the sky. She didn't know the area well -- Hank moved here after the accident -- so she would go around the block and see where it took her from there. She focused on little but her breathing and the music playing in her ears.

In her exercise, she wanted to forget yesterday. Walking away from the Chapman farm had been a mistake. Soon enough, the department would be called back out to the property, or the FBI would take over the case and find it themselves. It was an inevitable discovery, and she just put her career on the line to prolong it.

But staring at the scene inside the farm, she couldn't bring herself to do anything different. She'd seen enough grief, both professionally and personally, to know what that android was going through was real. Worst of all, it was unnecessary, and that thought had kept her up half the night.

A hand around her arm pulled her into an adjacent alleyway, and before she could see anything, she felt an arm wrap across her neck and a cloth press against her face. She held her breath and lashed out at someone taller than her, trying to create space in his grip with one hand and reach for the gun at her waistline with the other. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it away, holding it up to her chest. He dragged her backwards, keeping her from kicking at him until she finally fell unconscious.

* * *

When Hank first woke and found Andy gone but her bike in the garage, he assumed she went for a run and would return soon. It was only when he finished getting ready for the day and still saw no sign of her that he started to worry. He stood by a warming coffee maker as he reached for his phone.

It took three rings too many to answer. He was suspicious even as she spoke casually into her phone, "Yeah?"

"Andy, where the hell are you?" He asked.

"I decided to take the day off. Didn't you see my note?"

He turned toward the dining table, looking for this supposed piece of paper. He moved into the living room, finding nothing there either. "What note?"

"The one that said I'm taking some time off," She replied with an annoyed scoff, then mused, "I'm gonna go out to eat, do some shopping. Maybe get a lava lamp."

Hank stopped. "Right," He mumbled. Returning to the kitchen, he shut off his coffee maker and left the mug in its place. "Is this about yesterday?" He went for his car keys, and then toward the front door. 

The question was loaded, and so was her response. "No, I've just been undercover for so long. I want cut loose for a little while. I'm playing it by ear today."

He was already starting the car when he asked, "Well, you deserve your free time, I guess. Did you call in?"

"Shit, I forgot. Sorry about that. Tell Richards for me, all right?" Quickly, she added, "And don't bother calling again. I'm turning my phone off." 

"Okay. I'll let him know."

"See you, Hank."

In another car in the city, Nick Weaver hung up Andy's phone, and tossed it out the window to the sidewalk. Andy remained still, her hands tied behind her back and a bandana over her eyes. With the sounds of the drive to indicate where she was, she listened and counted, waiting for their next stop.

* * *

Connor sat at his desk that morning, staring at the doorway into the precinct bullpen. Hank had actually been to work on time the past two days, and it was no coincidence that it'd been two days since Andy was sleeping on his couch. It was an influence he was pleased to note, not that he would be sharing it with the lieutenant any time soon.

Hank came running into the department at that moment, about half an hour early. He ignored Connor on his way to the SID office, and Connor noticed Andy's distinct absence. Something was wrong.

He followed Hank into the office where Richards sat his desk, and jolted in surprise at their entrance. "Weaver's got Andy," Hank told them, almost out of breath as he marched across the room.

The sensation that ran through Connor at this news was vaguely familiar, in a very unpleasant way. It was concern. It was the unknown mixed with a helplessness that he couldn't stand. He  _ knew _ this was going to happen, and a small part of him wanted to be angry about it.

The lieutenants were speaking. He hadn't even noticed that Hank was explaining the morning's events to Richards. "She was missing this morning so I called her. She used her code word."

"Did she say anything else?" Richards asked.

"She's tied up. Blindfolded," Hank shrugged shoulders full of tension, "They have control of her phone. It's probably on the side of the road somewhere by now."

Richards had shifted into a professional mode Connor hadn't personally seen. Where the man often held himself with little energy and spoke calmly, now his expression was hardened and focused. Nodding, he stood and headed for the door, "We'll still track it. I'll let Fowler know what's going on; he can put out an alert."

"Hey--" Hank pointed to him, calling out, "And get Perkins on this. He may as well make himself useful if he's gonna be here."

The door shut behind Richards, leaving them in a stiff silence. Connor's LED was a stable red as he watched Hank try not to pace in the office. "Lieutenant--"

"Damn it!" He cursed loudly, a balled up fist jerking through the air. "I knew this was going to happen the minute we started this sting!"

"Lieutenant," Connor repeated.

His firm tone pulled Hank's attention to him. The man turned, exclaiming, " _What?! _ "

Connor returned the stare with one of his own, his much more controlled. "We need to focus right now, and find Detective Hope."

* * *

After a nerve-wracking drive, Andy felt the car coming to a jerky stop. She could hear Nick climb out of the car, slamming his door behind him and sending vibrations through the backseat that made her jump. She didn't have to wait long, as the door at her left opened and a rough hand pulled her out to her feet.

The barrel of a gun was pressed against the small of her back, and she felt a breath at her ear. "Fight me and get a bullet in your spine."

She couldn't resist making a comment at this. "Is that not the plan anyway?"

The gun jabbed at her, pushing her forward. Her footsteps were hard, and she could feel the bottoms of her shoes scraping against pavement. The sounds of cars and city trucks were just behind them, and mixed in with that was another vehicle, pulling into a lot. Just before he start leading her down a set of stairs, she made out the sound of doors opening, metal extending, and a set of wheels rolling across concrete.

Andy was certain of it: they were in the subway. Every movement echoed throughout a long, empty hall, where so much as a pen drop was a scream. They walked the length of the upper floor, then descended to the lower level, and across a large room.

He opened a door and urged her inside. They took only a few steps into the room when she was pushed down by her shoulder, and landed on a metal chair.

"Tie her there," Nick said to someone else in the room.

The voice that responded was recognized as Sam, Nick's android assistant. "Yes, Sir."

Sam stepped forward, and Andy felt the binds at her wrists being undone. As she didn't know who else was there, or if Nick was even still there, she allowed this to happen without a fight. He was gentle as he moved her arms outward and tied her wrists to the armrests of the chair. Before he pulled away, a slender metal object was slipped into the palm of her right hand.

Quickly realizing it was a pocket knife, she closed her fist around it to hide it from view.

A second later, the blindfold over her eyes was ripped off, and she was face to face with Nick Weaver. She examined her surroundings in the small subway office she sat in. Old papers and boxes were scattered across the desk and floor, and half a poster was still stuck to the wall to her right. There was little else, and no opportunity to use her surroundings to her advantage.

"Where the hell have you brought me, Weaver?" She asked, hoping the look of distaste would strike a nerve.

It did. He glared at her with an anger only reserved for those he hated the most. "Is this not glamorous enough for you,  _ Detective _ ?" He spat, "Unfortunately my house has crime scene tape around it."

It was the least he deserved. The dark circles under his eyes had her wondering, with mild glee, if he'd slept at all since he was on the run. For a moment, she felt like she had the upper hand again. "That's gotta tank the property value," She mused.

Leaning down, he pushed his gun into her chest. A reminder that he was running the show. She tried to appear unfazed, but she tilted her head away from him, the arrogance leaving her. He stared at her, saying, "Your humor isn't cute anymore."

"So what's your plan from here?" She asked, swallowing the knot in her throat.

He shrugged, as though it was a ridiculous question. "I dump you in the river and take off," He answered, huffing, "You think I'm sittin' on some big plan here? I just want to see you dead."

It wasn't quite the monologue she'd hoped to weasel out of him. As he turned away from her, her brows shot up and she nodded, mumbling, "Fair enough."

* * *

"I don't care if  _ Jesus _ came down there and put a phone in Hart's hands, you fucking pick up a phone and you call me!"

From the DPD bullpen, Hank and Connor watched through the windows of Fowler's office as he yelled into his phone. He hadn't even bothered to frost the glass, and his temper was seeping through the walls, making nearby officers uneasy.

Hank and Connor's own glowering didn't help much. They'd been growing more tense over the past five minutes, waiting for Richards to return with news as they dug through their files for any clue that could help.

"I guess we know how Weaver found her," Hank muttered, standing over his desk.

Connor shook his head, "But where did he  _ take _ her?" He turned away from the office with a scowl, his body a bundle of nerves. "We have to know something."

Hank shrugged and held up his work tablet, waving it for emphasis. "Nothing Hart gave us led to anything that points at Weaver - just his suppliers."

Around the corner came Richards, holding a thick folder in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. "Perkins is bringing them all in now," He interjected, stopping behind Hank's desk. With a shrug, he admitted, "It's gonna sting later giving him credit for that, but I think I'll get over it."

"SID find anything?" Hank asked with little patience.

Richards dropped the bag he was holding onto the desk. Through the plastic, they could see Andy's cellphone. The back had been lost, while the screen was flattened, cracked, and bent. "We tracked its GPS. Looked like she was going for a run when she got pulled into a car. They tossed the phone a block later."

Hank briefly remembered the conversation he had with Andy after the operation. Nick had a personal android, and Andy had reason to believe they stayed together. "What about Weaver's android? Uh, Sam, I think," He shrugged, unsure of the name but excited about the lead, "Can we track him?"

It was good enough for Richards, who nodded and began to walk away. "I'll see what we can do."

Hank turned to talk to Connor but stopped. He seemed to be staring hard at his desk, his brows furrowed in thought and his LED cycling through yellow. Hank called out to him, and he jolted, looking up at the lieutenant with big eyes.

"The hospital," Connor began, leaning forward. "When Detective Hope broke into your house, she told you she couldn't go to the hospital."

"Because Weaver's got eyes there." Slapping a hand down on Connor's shoulder, Hank bolted for the doorway. "Come on!"

* * *

Nick worked quietly at the desk against the far wall. His back was facing Andy, whatever he was doing hidden from her view. She tried to lean side to side for a glimpse, but all she could make out was his gun sitting on the counter, and a small white box.

Sam stood at the wall on her right. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he stared straight ahead, as if tuning out his surroundings. Huffing to herself, she asked, "Seeing as you haven't shot me yet, I guess you have some big idea on how to kill me?"

Nick chuckled. "Well, I have been thinking about it. Shooting you seemed a bit too generous."

He turned and approached her with a strip of rubber. She stared at it, puzzled, until he leaned down in front of her. Her eyes went wide as he tightened a tourniquet around her arm. He pulled hard on either end and grinned as her casual veneer chipped away. "Figure out the plot twist yet, Detective?"

Laughing to himself, he stood and went to his desk. Once he couldn't see her, she released a gasp she'd been holding. She struggled to stay calm, but all she could focus on was how the rubber burned her skin. Her breathing was growing hard and panicked, and her body was cold with a fear she hadn't felt since her father went missing. It was a fear she still didn't know how to handle. She couldn't see a way out of this.

Plucking a needle from the desk, he returned to her in the middle of the room. Red ice sat inside a clear tube, and the sight almost made her heart stop. She pulled at her restraints as he brought the syringe closer, holding down her wrist to try to keep her steady.

The needle touched her skin, and then the power went out.

She didn't know what happened or why, but she wasn't going to stick around to find out. With the needle still just at the surface of her skin, she popped out the knife that sat safely in her palm. There was a single string of rope at her wrist, and it didn't take long to cut.

Nick stood straight. The second she felt the needle move off her arm, she reached up and drove the knife into a warm body. Nick yelled in pain, reeling away and taking the knife with him.

"Bitch!"

Her chair toppled over to the side; rather than try to slap her in the dark, Nick had simply shoved her. Her shoulder hit the ground, and she went to pull the rope off her other arm as Nick scrambled for his phone. A light turned on from the device, and he flashed it over the desk, looking for his gun.

Free of her binds, Andy clamored to her feet and crashed into his back. She brought him down to the floor and reached up over him, snatching the gun off the table. She ran for the office door, knowing Nick would have the firearm he took from her somewhere nearby. "Stay here," She heard him yell toward Sam, his footsteps pounding on the concrete not far behind her.

* * *

Pulling up to the hospital, Hank and Connor exited the car and began their rush for the front doors. An ambulance was parked out front, its back doors wide open and its stretcher gone.

Connor slowed down, catching sight of the alley to the side of the hospital. At the end of the path was an entrance to an old subway line. It'd been decommissioned after the above-ground railway was upgraded, and various entrances were situated throughout the city, tucked away between newer buildings. 

The perfect highway for a man hiding from police, and just as good a place to take a hostage. It was a gamble, but it was one Connor was willing to take. He veered off his path, long strides carrying him to the alley.

"Hey! Hey!" Connor stopped at Hank's yelling, but his eyes remained glued to the end of the alley. Hank moved in front of him, obstructing his view. "Where are you going?"

"They're in the subway," He said, his voice strained. 

An attempt to walk around Hank was futile as the man held up his hand. "We don't know that-- the subway's been closed down for years. You're not going down there until we find his accomplice and get backup," Hank argued.

Connor looked hard at Hank. This was  _ not _ up for debate. "I'm going now," He insisted, taking a long step around and moving forward.

"Connor--!"

Stopping, the android turned and leaned in, breaking past Hank's personal space. "You asked me to keep an eye on her, Hank, so that's what I'm doing!" Connor yelled, surprising even himself a little bit. They stared at one another only a second before he swallowed nothing, and lowered his voice. "I'm going to save her."

Whatever he wanted to say, be it about Connor's attitude or the risk that he was wrong, Hank wisely chose to keep it to himself. Connor was sure about this, and at the end of the day, Hank trusted him. He pulled his gun from its holster, and held it toward Connor. "I'll be down there as soon as I can."

* * *

In the lowest level of the subway, the unstable flashing from Nick's phone was just enough light for Andy to see the room outside the office. There were columns throughout the space, and to the right was the subway rails. She was able to make out the closest column to her, and she ducked behind it a second before he fired off a shot from her gun.

She threw her back against the concrete, taking a moment to inhale a deep breath. Lifting a shaky hand, she took hold of her tourniquet and yanked it off her arm, the circulation returning to her arm a minimal relief in the current situation. She moved both her hands to the gun, using her grip on the handle to steel herself. 

"Where the  _ fuck _ are you?"

Glancing out, she saw Nick's phone facing a different direction. She shot at him and ran for another pillar further away. When there was no yell from his end, and the light continued to move, she knew she'd missed.

"Just give this up, Weaver! You're not catching me again," She yelled back.

A blind gunshot made her jump, and she heard the bullet strike a different column elsewhere in the room. She returned fire only once and then ran for the stairs, taking two at a time. The sound alerted him to her location and he attempted to shoot at the stairs, but it was wild aim, and he hit the wall and the ground behind her.

At the top of the stairs, she swung around the corner and ran face first into another body. They both stumbled, and he reached for her arms as she reeled back, preparing for a fight. It was the LED and the fabric of his blazer that she recognized in the darkness.

"Connor!"

The relief that washed over her -- and admittedly, Connor himself -- was almost enough to bring her to her knees. She threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug that he was fast to return. Despite the tension in her muscles, he could feel a tremble coming from her that encouraged him to squeeze tighter.

It was a moment that felt like a lifetime, but it was only a few seconds before Andy snapped back into action. She pulled away from him but grabbed his wrist, pulling him after her. They moved from the stairs, Andy hiding them behind a wall in a nook with old, dusty benches.

She leaned around the wall, waiting for the light of Nick's phone to emerge on this floor. Meanwhile, Connor was looking over her form, his eyes faring much better than hers were in the darkness. Aside from bruises at her wrists, and a line of red circled her arm, she appeared fine. "Are you hurt?" He whispered.

"No," She quickly replied, shaking her head. "Who else is here?"

"Hank's in the hospital. Police and the FBI are on their way."

Even in the emergency they were in, it wasn't lost on her that he'd called Hank by name. This was a development she would have to remember to tease him about later. And did he say FBI? "Perkins is coming?" She brushed off the surprise, telling him, "Nick's using my gun. It's got a modified clip, so there are seven shots left."

"What about you?"

"I should have four."

When the light of Nick's phone inched over the stairs, she leaned back. He stalked down the hallway, and as he neared them, she clutched Connor's hand. Nick strode past, and they waited a while longer, until they felt relatively safe enough to leave.

She tapped his arm twice to let him to know to follow her, and then went out into the hall. Rather than head straight for the exit, they descended the stairs from where she came. Connor leaned down to whisper, "Why aren't we leaving?"

"He'll just take off and we'll never find him," She answered, hand sliding along the railing, "Right now, he's going to turn the power back on, so we need to make him work for it until backup gets here."

Once they hit the floor, she grabbed hold of his arm again and ran her free hand against the wall to guide her. Connor suspected her grip on him was more for her own sense of security than it was anything else, so he was quiet, and let her lead him.

They were almost to the opposite end of the space when the lights flickered on. They began to look up, when they spotted the assistant android, Sam. He'd left the office, and seemed as though he was on the hunt for someone. Connor moved to step in front of Andy, blocking her from his path, but she held out her hand to stop him. When he glanced back at her, she shook her head.

"We're good," She assured him.

Sam's LED faltered between red and yellow as he shifted on his feet. Casting his eyes down, he spoke, though his voice was soft and nervous. "I wanted to warn you. And I tried to keep the lights off-- I'm-- I'm so sorry."

Andy had begun to approach him, a soothing hand hovering near his arm. "We don't have time," She nodded to the room in the corner, telling him, "Go back into the office and wait until this is over--"

A gunshot ringing out sent them all to the ground, Andy pulling Sam with her. They hid behind the column nearest Connor, where he'd been blocked from Nick's view. Connor moved to aim his gun around the corner, but Andy grabbed his arm. "Don't -- he doesn't know you're here yet."

She nudged Sam toward the office, and he nodded in acknowledgement. Standing to his feet, Sam made a run for the door. Before Nick could act, Andy fired twice in his direction. Nick yelled out, and she swore she heard the faint sound of bullet hitting skin. As Sam hunkered down behind another column, Andy got a glimpse of Nick catching his balance as blood started to seep through the denim at his thigh.

Andy returned to her hiding spot beside Connor. Removing the clip from her gun, she held it toward Connor, saying, "Switch with me." Connor did as he was asked, removing Hank's clip. They exchanged them, sliding them back into their respective firearms. "You have two shots. Work your way around and wait until he's distracted to get his attention from behind," She looked at him, stressing, " _ Don't _ kill him."

This was not a good plan. Connor shook his head, a new burst of panic energizing him. "This is too dangerous. You're already previously injured. You should let me be the distraction."

"I'm ordering you!" She snapped. Before he could argue, she left her cover and ran for the next pillar, narrowly avoiding another shot. In the back of her mind, she was keeping count:  _ He's got five left. _

Reluctantly, Connor used the time Nick was focused on Andy to move to closer to the man. On the other side of Andy, Sam was also taking this as an opportunity to get closer to the office. When Nick aimed for him, Andy provided cover with another shot.

Nick ducked behind a pillar. "Shoulda known you broke bad, Sam!" He yelled, his voice echoing through the room. "You're gonna be the main ingredient in this bitch's overdose now!"

It was a threat that left a bad taste in Andy's mouth, and would echo in her mind in the late hours of the night. For now, though, she had no time to dwell on those words. They did this dance one last time, shuffling around the room as Andy shot once, and Nick fired off twice. Sam was one more round away from the office, and Connor was close enough to shoot if needed. Andy just needed to get into place. 

It wouldn't be hard to do, as Nick came out of cover, laughing. "All right, come out. I know that was your last shot," He called into the seemingly empty space.

Swallowing her nerves, Andy stood and took a slow step out from behind a column. She held her hands halfway up in the air, facing a smug Nick twenty feet away. "What was that about not catching you again?" He asked, holding her at the end of her own gun, "Put the damn thing down."

She knelt down and lowered the gun to the ground, slow in her movements. Behind him, Connor moved from his hiding spot, aiming directly at the man's head. "Put your hands up, Nick."

Startled by the new voice, Nick spun around. He recognized Connor right away, and his eyes went wide. Glancing to the gun in Connor's hands, he snorted. "I don't take orders from plastic," He snarled.

His body tensed to fire at Connor, but Andy was prepared, and she was quicker. She held up the gun from the ground in front of her, firing three close rounds into his chest. 

Nick was stunned. He swayed as he looked over his bleeding form, and then back to Andy. Wordlessly, he collapsed to the ground. Even as he lay there, everyone remained where they were. The new silence in the air was tense and worried. Was it really over?

Finally, Andy let out a sigh of relief. She watched him one more beat before standing up. Sam was approaching her, but her mind was stuck on the body in the room. After everything he'd done, everything she had to witness over the years, he deserved this. It wasn't the end, though. Jason still had to be dealt with, suppliers still needed to be found. There was still the feeling of a tourniquet on her arm.

Across from her, Connor lowered his gun. Yet again, though for different reasons, he was speechless. The roller coaster of emotions that had been running through him since that morning were all crashing down, and he felt a bit like an empty shell now: weak and exhausted, and more than that, overwhelmed. This wasn't right.

"Are you okay?"

Andy nodded at Sam, tearing her gaze away from Nick to look at him. "Thanks for the knife," She mumbled.

He eyed Connor, knowing full well who the detective android was and what Connor's presence could mean for him. "What... What's going to happen to me?"

"We'll figure that out." She nudged his arm to catch his attention, and forced a grin. "Hey, I got your back." 

He tried to smile despite his concern, but it was faint, and it died quickly. He began to speak again when he caught movement from the side of his eye. Nick was still alive, although barely, and was moving the gun he held onto with what little life he had left.

"No!"

It all happened in a blur. Sam pulled Andy behind him as Nick fired off a single shot before losing the last of his strength. Connor jumped into action, kicking the gun away from Nick and aiming down at him just in case. Andy stumbled to catch her balance, unable to stop what was happening.

Sam was hit. Andy caught him as he fell, and lowered his shaking body to the ground. An expression numb with shock, Andy kept her arms around him, holding on tight. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. How could she have been so stupid? "Sam-- No-- Sam--" She shifted him to reach for the wound in his chest, trying to look at the damage and fix what was forever broken. "No, come on, stay with me, Sam. Stay with me."

What sounded like a horde of footsteps ran through the subway, growing louder as a group of SWAT and FBI officers rushed down the stairs. Hank was at the front of the line, a new gun in his hands. As they descended into the room, he stopped. He lowered his weapon, taking in the sight of his shaken partners, and the two dead bodies between them.

* * *

Hank and Connor stood in the hallway, right outside a hospital room. Inside was Andy, speaking with a doctor. Several yards down the hall was Richards, talking to a group of SWAT officers, and the hospital's lawyer. It appeared to be a heated discussion. 

"We found his accomplice. Some nurse on his payroll," Hank scoffed, breaking the silence that lingered. It was bad enough being back inside a hospital, but the thought of a medical professional working for a red ice dealer -- that was a disgust that ran deep, and it would unsettle him for a few days more. He would distract himself with his worry for his partners, one of whom stood beside him. "You... Are you okay?"

Connor's stare never strayed from the door. He was angry, and the tight jaw showed it. "I should have been faster. I should have been watching him," He scolded himself with a shake of his head. "He would have killed her if that android didn't step in."

"He didn't kill her."

It was weak consolation. It wouldn't have been good enough for Hank, and it wasn't good enough for Connor either. "He almost did!" Connor snapped, raising his voice.

It wasn't the first time that day he'd yelled at someone, but it surprised Hank all the same. Connor was on the verge -- balancing on the tiniest of edges -- of losing his composure entirely. He was as upset as any human officer would have been, and Hank wasn't stupid. He knew what that meant.

Connor was still clinging to a falsehood, though, and Hank wouldn't be the one to rock the boat. "You saved Andy's life, Connor," He told the android. With a small nod, he added, "I won't forget that." It was reassurance for an uncertain future, and hopefully Connor would realize it one day.

The door to the room in front of them opened. They turned as the doctor left, nodding to Hank in small greeting before walking away. Andy remained inside, and they could see her in a chair in the corner beside the window. Hank and Connor both moved to enter the room, but Hank held out a hand, blocking Connor's path. This time, Hank would handle things alone. Connor stepped back, recognizing it for what it was.

Inside the room, Andy rested her elbows on her knees, wringing hands recently stained blue. She would shower tonight as many times as it would take to not see that anymore. Hank pulled another chair across the room, placing it beside hers. He sat do and said nothing, instead waiting for her to speak.

"Sam found my badge seven months ago," She confessed quietly. Shaking her head, she added, "I don't know if he was already deviant or that's when it happened, but he just... handed it back."

If this had happened a few weeks ago, before Connor and the rise of deviancy, Hank would have yelled at her for this. He would have said she was compromised, and trusting an android was foolish. Now, he felt he understood. "He was your source," He concluded.

Wiping a tear that managed to roll down her cheek, Andy nodded. She was not willing to break down here, in public, with Hank and Connor and Richards around her. "We should-- um-- We should go," She murmured, jumping to her feet. Hank stood slowly, watching her try to stay collected and focused. "Did they get the nurse who worked with him? I think her name's Maya? Or-- Or something--"

"Andy, stop." He placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to look him in the eye. "Look at me," He said, tone firm to break through her insistence on pretending everything was okay.

She faced him, and he maintained eye contact with her. He didn't know what to say, but he also knew he didn't need to say anything. He just needed her to stop, to slow down and let herself be. He needed to know she wasn't hurt, that they weren't going to go home and she'd end up worse. 

When her expression started to crack, he sighed and moved a hand behind her neck. He pulled her in to a hug, mumbling, "God, you scared the hell out of me, kid."

It took her a moment to accept it, but finally she wrapped her arms around him. She argued every which way against crying in her head -- it wasn't professional, it didn't solve anything, it was embarrassing. Then she caught the blue on her fingertips again, and it brought forth the sob she'd been trying to choke back. Hank said nothing more, holding her as she let herself mourn.


	9. Ultimatums and Arguments

 

** November 13, 2038 **

 

After killing Nick Weaver, Andy had been given time off work. She needed to rest, collect her thoughts, and wait for the initial investigation into her actions, though Captain Fowler was confident it wouldn't take long.

The department was feeling her absence. No matter how people felt about Andy personally, she was a fellow officer, and she'd almost lost her life. What happened left them all feeling less safe, and there was anger, too. The stress was getting to everyone; it left each of them with a feeling of walking on eggshells. Hank's less favorable temperament than usual wasn't helping, and even Connor's own upset seemed to spread through the bullpen.

Hank was on the phone with one of his contacts, checking in on his appointment to meet with Elijah Kamski, the creator of androids and founder of CyberLife. It was an impressive feat -- even Connor wouldn't have been able to secure such a meeting. If anything, it was a testament to how deeply the long-time lieutenant's connections ran.

Connor was waiting for him when Lieutenant Richards emerged from the SID office. He approached their desks, standing at Connor's side rather than Hank's. "There's something I need your help with," He said in a whisper, gesturing over his shoulder.

With furrowed brows, Connor stood and followed. They walked past the SID office, past the interrogation rooms, and into a room Connor had never before entered. The tech lab at the department was a small, sterile room with packed shelves at the back, and busy desks along the right wall. A row of stations lined the left, equipment that CyberLife had long since found ways to minimize and implement into Connor himself.

In the middle of the room was an exam table, and on its surface lay a recently deactivated LM100. The sight of Nick's assistant, Sam, drew Connor's memories to a day earlier -- one of an unfamiliar deviant standing in the middle of a subway station, and another of Andy clutching a bleeding chest and pleading for a miracle. 

A technician sat at a desk in the corner, clicking away at her keyboard. She looked back when they entered, and Richards waved at her, "Take a break. Get some coffee."

She sent a glance between the two before leaving the room. Richards stepped around the table to stand at the opposite side, and turned to face Connor. "My techs say we can reactivate it, but they don't think it'll last long enough to give us anything," He leaned back and held up a hand to Connor, his frown turning nervous, "I hear androids can probe memories."

"Yes, that's something I can do," Connor nodded.

It was not a subtle request, and Richards almost appeared sorry for asking. He was quiet, pondering on his concern. "If I could, I'd reactivate it with Hope. Let her... talk to it," He shrugged, unsure of whether or not that would have done anything for his detective. "But it's got information that could help us now that Perkins has the guys Hart gave us. I think that sounds pretty good for closure."

Connor didn't know what to say. "Are you asking my opinion, Lieutenant?"

Shaking his head, Richards was quick to protest, "No, no. I'm gonna hate this either way." He reached for a device sitting by Sam's head, picking up a new regulator pump. "The tech brought in a temporary part, but uh, I don't know how to turn these things on..."

Connor moved closer and took the pump from Richards. Sam's chest plate was open, revealing his inner workings and the slot in which a new biocomponent would fit. The regulator pump clicked into place, and it was but a few seconds before the LED in Sam's temple powered on.

When Sam first opened his eyes, he was slow and dazed. "Where..." He stared at the ceiling, as if he would find answers within the tiles. Finally his gaze drifted to the side; when he landed on Connor, he stiffened, and lifted his head. "You," He whispered. He tried to push himself up, but his arms shook, unable to bear the weight. He started to work himself into a frenzy as he asked, "Where is she? Where's Nick?"

Connor froze. The panic Sam was exuding got to him, and briefly he found himself back in the subway station. When he offered no answers, Richards leaned forward. "Weaver's dead and Andy's okay. You saved her," He assured, entering Sam's line of sight.

This left Sam skeptical, but as no one was pointing a gun at him, he wouldn't argue just yet. "Can I see her?" He asked, just above a whisper.

"Right after you help us," Richards lied with the same level of assurance he had speaking the truth. "We need to know what you know."

Maybe it would have fooled another android, but Sam had seen enough under Nick's wing. He'd seen enough  _ before _ Nick, too, and he knew what Richards really meant. He cycled through the stages of grief faster than anyone could see, and then asked Connor, "I'm not going to make it, am I?"

Having regained his own voice, Connor offered the android his hand and answered, "You don't have long. I would like to access your memory."

Sam stared at the open hand. It was a big thing to ask, to intrude upon someone's privacy in the most ultimate of ways. It was just as big a goal, to finish what he and Andy started. For that, he would do it. "Will you tell her..." He stopped himself, realizing no message was good enough, long enough, for what he wanted to say. "Will you thank her for me?"

It would have to do.

It wasn't a message Connor understood -- Sam had no hope for reactivation, so what was there to be grateful about? -- but Connor didn't have to understand it. He nodded, making yet another promise he intended to keep. 

"We're running out of time."

He glanced up at Richards' voice, and it was at that moment Sam reached out and clapped his hand around Connor's arm. On instinct, Connor returned the grip, and as his skin faded away to the white layer underneath, memories flooded through him.

Nick Weaver beats a weakened, broken man to the ground. Connor -- no,  _ Sam _ \-- watches from the corner. They call out to him for help, curse his name through a bloody cough. Sam stays where he is. Watching. Every blow is deserved, every broken bone representing a different life they ruined. This must be what justice feels like. "You want to sit here and rot, or you want to come work for me?" The gun at Nick's waistband gleams, and the other men hovering in the doorway cast shadows over a dying body. Sam won't get far if he runs. No, this is not justice. This is escaping one lifetime of servitude for another.

There were hundreds of memories, each containing hundreds of bits of information being uploaded into Connor's mind. He saw dealers and buyers, followed Nick across the city, took phone calls and set up appointments. He heard whispers of desperate deviants, each one searching for a sanctuary that he would never see, for he stood faithfully in a shadow that left chaos and fear in its wake. Sam was numb to it all. For his own sake, he had to be.

Andy stands beside him. She asks where he came from, how long he's been around, who he was before this. She scoffs when the answers are vague. No one asks those questions. No one cares to. She is the first to be interested. He looks forward to more questions, as if he is learning who he is alongside her. It's like seeing color for the first time. 

He stares at her badge. For Nick, it's betrayal; for Sam, it's an opportunity. She tells him she wants to help and that she has everyone's best interests at heart. She is convincing. Maybe Jericho isn't impossible. He will bear all of this a little while longer, on that hope.

It was an instantaneous transfer between the androids in the DPD tech lab, but for Connor, it felt like a lifetime. In its own way, it  _ was _ a lifetime. His LED unstable and his nerves frayed, Connor dropped Sam's arm, letting it fall to the table where it remained lifeless. He took a small step away, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that nothing was going to be the same after this.

Richards was waiting with as much patience as he could muster. He leaned on his hands on the edge of the table, asking, "Well?"

Looking up at him, Connor tried his best to compose himself. He nodded, knowing full well his tone betrayed him. "I have his memory."

"Connor! Where the hell are you?"

Hank's voice was close, though muffled through the door. Richards waved toward it, saying, "Go on. We'll go through all its information later."

It didn't need to be said twice. Connor spun on his heel and almost raced for the door. Hank was not far away, pulling his jacket on as he moved from his desk. Quietly, Connor hid his discomfort and fell into step behind the lieutenant, the two exiting the precinct together.

Hank stopped outside, at the top of the stairs. He looked to either end of the street, his shoulders drooping and his face twisting into puzzlement and doubt. Even sifting through his own problems, Connor noticed. "Hank?"

"Deviants broke into a store last night at Capitol Park. Chris was the first responding officer. He had his own gun turned on him." Hank faced Connor now, a foreign look in his eye, almost challenging. "He said he was saved by Markus himself..."

Connor didn't know what Hank was thinking, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he didn't want to know, either. "Is Chris okay?"

Hank wanted Connor to rethink deviancy on his own time. If he tried to push it, the android would just push back harder. It was a delicate situation. Hank never did delicate very well. There was a long pause before he finally nodded. "Yeah. He's shaken up, but he's alive."

* * *

"No-- Mom, you don't need to visit. I'm fine."

Andy stared at the coffee maker in Hank's kitchen, waiting for her mug to fill. A pizza box sat on the dinner table beside her, opened and missing three slices. With an elbow on the surface of the table, she rested her cheek in her palm. She fought to keep her eyes open, dark circles visible under them.

Her head ached since she first woke that morning, and between Sumo wanting attention and her phone buzzing with news, sleeping in wasn't going to happen. Going out was just as difficult, and her mood changed from exhausted to restless on the hour.

Natalie Hope's voice came through the phone, sarcasm in the older woman's words. "Well, you're  _ so _ convincing."

"I'm just tired."

"Are you having problems sleeping?"

There was that tone Andy knew all too well. It was one of professional expertise mixed with maternal paranoia. Even if she was having trouble sleeping -- and she  _ was _ \-- she wouldn't let her mother know. She rolled her eyes, asking, "If I say yes, are you going to make a big deal out of it?"

Natalie had just as little patience for games, it would seem. "Andrea, I haven't talked to you in three years and now you almost died, so  _ please _ , will you just humor me for ten minutes?" She insisted.

_ Fair enough, _ Andy decided. She leaned back and sank into her chair, hoping her sweatshirt would swallow her and remove her from the conversation. Sumo wandered closer, brushing his back against a hand she dangled over the armrest. Tangling her fingers into thick fur, she said quietly, "I'm okay."

Natalie took only a beat before she replied. "Did your captain give you time off?"

"Three days," Andy said, rushing to add before her mother could throw a fit, "I asked him to lower it to three."

Sighing, Natalie murmured, "Of course you did. Well when can I visit if not now?"

That was a question Andy was not ready to answer, but also one she knew was coming. It wasn't that she didn't want to see her mother, it was... It was  _ just not now. _ "I don't know. I need to get an apartment first, and...," With a shrug, she offered, "What about Christmas?"

"What about Thanksgiving?"

"Valentine's Day."

After a moment of stubborn consideration, Natalie chuckled. "Fine, you win. Christmas," She agreed. Softly, she told her, "I love you."

"Love you, too," Andy replied. 

As the call ended, she moved the phone away from her ear to look at the time. If things were going according to schedule, Hank and Connor would be meeting with Elijah Kamski any minute now. She was glad she didn't have to be there. After recent events, she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her cool in front of the founder of CyberLife, if the rumors about his ego were true. Still, it would have been nice to be out of the house. Andy was never fond of being homebound, and this not even being her home made it much worse.

A news article popped up on the screen of her phone, which vibrated in her hand.  _ Androids Take Over Capitol Park _ , the headline read, with an image of the center in question just underneath. 

It looked like an opportunity to her. Ruffling the back of the dog still standing at her side, she asked, "How about a walk, Sumo?"

* * *

Elijah Kamski's home was situated along the Detroit River, just far enough from civilization to feel secluded while still in the city. It was a large home built of sleek, angular architecture, with dark walls and a ramp leading up to the front door. There were windows at the corners of the front, but they revealed little of the interior. From over the roof, one could see the tip of the CyberLife Tower, just across the river.

It had been a quiet drive, tense on either side of the car. The news about Chris Miller was enough to sober anyone, but Hank was also growing worried for his oddly silent partner. In the passenger's seat, Connor's mind had yet to pull away from the dead android in the tech lab.

Pulling the keys from the ignition, Hank motioned toward Connor with a jut of his chin. "What's going on with you?"

Connor blinked himself into the moment. Although there were discoveries within Sam's memories that were relevant to the deviancy cases, now was not the time for this discussion. He was still trying to sort through everything himself. "I was sending in my report," He lied.

"Then why wasn't your LED flashing?" This caught Connor off guard, and Hank pointed at him when he turned to express that surprise. "I'm not as big an idiot about you androids as you think."

With a long sigh, Connor decided to give at least a vague answer. "All right. I was thinking."

"About?" Hank pressed. When the android hesitated and shifted his gaze to the house, Hank glowered. He started to raise his voice, threatening, "Connor, we can sit out here all day--"

"Nick Weaver."

It stopped Hank well enough. When he thought it over, the answer should have surprised him -- after all, Connor was at the department to hunt deviants, not concern himself with narcotics. That being said, there were a lot of things Connor also wasn't meant to do -- he wasn't meant to let deviants escape, or follow a young SID detective around like a puppy.

Hank was preparing for anything when he urged him to continue. "...What about him?"

"Lieutenant Richards asked me to access his android's memory," Was Connor's casual answer.

"Oh." Correction: Hank was preparing for anything but  _ that _ . 

It wasn't a far fetched request. He'd done it before, with the android they found hiding in Carlos Ortiz' attic. That was just a moment, however. A brief glimpse at a single traumatic event. If Richards was planning to use Sam's memory as evidence against Nick Weaver's operation, they would need a lot more than that. They would need a lifetime, and that worried Hank.

He'd been quiet for too long, and Connor was looking at him now. He shrugged and shook his his head, saying firmly, "Well you're not doing it."

He exited the car before an argument could start, but it was too late for that. Connor's indignant stare was on his back as the android pushed open his door and climbed out to follow. Catching up to Hank in front of the car, he called out, "Why shouldn't I?"

Hank sighed, tired of this argument before it even began. Shifting around to wave a hand near his temple, he explained, "Because we don't know what that android went through, okay? It might mess with your head."

He began to approach the ramp leading to the front door, but heard no footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and upon seeing he was alone, he stopped and turned. Connor still stood in front of the car, intent on the ground below him. His annoyed but nervous expression said everything he wouldn't say himself. Hank stared only a second. 

"What the  _ fuck _ ?!" Hank roared, marching through the snow toward the car. 

Connor took several, fast steps away from the man, stumbling a little until he felt the car against his palms. He tried to put up an argument, but it was weak and insecure. "I had to do it before it was too late--"

"You talk to me before you do anything that stupid!" Hank gestured between them as he continued, "What if it was too much for you and you self-destructed?"

Taking offense to that, Connor scowled. "I'm more durable than that, Hank--"

"Bullshit!" Hank snapped, glaring, "I've been watching you, Connor-- you're not the same android that showed up at the precinct last week."

Connor knew what he meant, but he also knew what it meant to agree. He shook his head, stating, "Of course not. I'm the replacement--"

"You know what I mean!" Hank yelled. When there was no protest, he relaxed his shoulders and attempted to control his breathing. Connor would not look at him. He wasn't sure if that made him angrier or not. "Next time, you talk to me. You got that?"

Connor nodded, mumbling an agreement. "I'll talk to you next time."

Tension passed over them before Hank sighed again. "Jesus...," He muttered, running a hand over his forehead, "Did you even get anything out of it?"

A spark of excitement returned to Connor for the first time in days as he looked up at Hank. "Sam was at Nick Weaver's side for years. He saw everything," He nodded, then stepped forward, "He also knew about Markus' group. It's called Jericho."

It was one blow after another today. "You weren't gonna tell me about this?" Hank exclaimed.

"I was looking for a way to slip it into the conversation."

"Slip it into the--"

Hank stopped. It came as an abrupt realization, if a bit delayed, that Connor had referred to Sam with human pronouns. Amazingly enough, he didn't even seem to notice he was doing it. It was a far more significant detail than it would seem, and Hank believed this to mean that Connor had experienced more than he was willing to let on.

Although fearing what the answer would be, Hank narrowed his eyes and asked, "You see anything else in there? Anything you might want to talk about?"

The hesitation as Connor struggled to find the right words was worrisome. "Sam... cared for Detective Hope," He began, unsure. Sam's emotions were messy and intense, and Connor didn't know what to make of most of them just yet, but he was certain of that much. "He asked me to give her a message before he shut down."

With Connor looking almost  _ fragile _ , Hank had a feeling there was more to it than that. For now, however, he would give Connor the space to figure things out on his own. "Then you should do that," He nodded, but rose his brows and warned, "And you're gonna have to tell her about the probing, too. This is her case you got mixed up in, and I'm not lyin' for you."

* * *

It had been a long time since Andy visited Capitol Park, and much had changed over the years. The bus station was new; she'd sat at the original one every morning in the summer on her way to work at a local gym. She also remembered the old fountain that the android statue replaced, and how the stone rim was wide and leveled in steps. Her cousin from Chicago would stand atop the highest ledge, shouting remarks down to their group of friends like a tyrannical queen, inciting them to throw quarters at her head.

The CyberLife store was the first addition, and the only one Andy had seen take place firsthand. Now it stood in the corner like a haunted beacon, its windowfront shattered by a stolen city maintenance vehicle and every one of its display androids missing from their stands. 

Sumo followed her to the edge of the center, which was taped off as officers guarded the space. Within the tape, people worked to clear out the damage and remove the stray pieces of CyberLife's storefront. A group of people stood in the street, trying to get broken parking meters back into working order.

An officer lifted a hand to stop her from crossing, but she showed her badge and was let through without a problem. Spotting a man she recognized, she maneuvered her way to the other end of the center. There was more evidence of a disturbance than just the CyberLife store, and she took her time examining it all.

Holographic tags had made their homes over benches, billboards, and windows -- two circles surrounding a smaller dot, a simple outline of an android's LED. Over the statue in the center, and down the side of a building across the street, floated  _ We Are Alive _ in giant letters.

She didn't consider herself on expert on such matters, but this looked like the start of a revolution.

"Andy!"

Wilson was approaching her now, a surprised but pleasant expression on his face. "Hey," She greeted, nodding her head toward the vandalized store, "What's the word?"

He tilted his head away from her, eyes squinting. "Aren't you off today?"

She shrugged and held up the hand that held a leash. "I am off. I'm walking the dog."

Sumo appraised the stranger as if understanding he'd been mentioned, and Wilson offered him a tiny wave. "All right, but you didn't get this from me." He pointed to the street, explaining, "They killed a drone, shut down the cameras, and hijacked a truck to crash it into the storefront. Then they took off with all the androids, and you saw the rest on the news."

"Did we get any kind of footage?"

He shook his head, replying, "No, not anywhere, but Chris and Paul were the first ones to show up last night. They took out a few androids that ran at them but then got overpowered."

This was new information, and alarming information at that. "Shit, are they all right?" She asked, hoping worst-case scenario would be a casual visit to the hospital.

Wilson was quick to nod and alleviate her concerns. "Yeah, that's the thing. The one they're calling Markus called them off. According to Chris, it was something about an eye for an eye."

This was less alarming, but it rekindled a certain discomfort in Andy. Not only had no one been hurt, it would seem the deviants were going out of their way to make sure of that. This was logical, and peaceful. Her mind kept travelling to the graffiti of  _ We Are Alive _ and to the speech from Stratford Tower.  _ This message is the hope of a people. _ She'd fallen asleep with that android on her tablet screen last night.

"Imagine that," She murmured.

Unaware of the doubts distracting her, Wilson shrugged. "Anyway, they hit five locations at the same time, so they've got a pretty decent group. There's also not really any evidence, but what do you expect with androids?"

She didn't offer an answer, instead glancing over his shoulder to the familiar face several yards away. Agent Perkins argued into his phone, doing a poor job at concealing his frustration from onlookers. "How's the FBI doing?"

Wilson almost rolled his eyes, making it clear he was ready for the man's absence. "Getting angrier by the hour. This is his fourth phone call since he's been here. My money's on us losing jurisdiction by tonight."

Jurisdiction over this would surely cover everything else, too. It would take Hank off the case, take  _ her _ off the case, and she had no idea what that meant for Connor. She doubted the FBI would be willing to take him on, and a small, selfish part of her didn't want them to.

A loud crash behind Wilson startled everyone out of their focus as workers dropped a larger shard of glass they were attempting to remove. Wilson spun on his heel to catch the scene, and then sighed. "I should get back to that," He began to walk backwards, waving a hand, "Tell Hank I said hi."

* * *

Kamski was worse than Hank expected him to be. He met them at his indoor pool, swaggering around in a robe that probably cost more than the Oldsmobile. There were a number of Chloe models they'd seen already, some tending to his every whim and others sitting in the pool like decoration for one man's narcissism.

Hank thought maybe he was just biased, but then Kamski put a gun in Connor's hands and pushed a Chloe to her knees. "Destroy this machine and I'll tell you all I know," He'd said, shrugging, "Or spare it, if you feel it's alive, but you'll leave here without having learnt anything from me."

No, Hank was definitely right; Kamski was an ass. 

"Okay, I think we're done here," Hank interjected. He refused to let the option even sit in the air, uncomfortably aware of his partner's deep silence. He pulled at Connor's arm, scoffing at Kamski. "Come on, Connor. Let's go. Sorry to get you outta your pool."

Kamski wouldn't let them leave just yet. "What's more important to you, Connor? Your investigation or the life of this android?" The android detective didn't respond, still holding a gun on Chloe. He saddled up to Connor's side, hands behind his back. "Decide who you are. An obedient machine... or a living being endowed with free will."

"Connor, don't," Hank ordered, panic laced in his words.

"Pull the trigger, and I'll tell you what you want to know," Kamski continued to urge.

Connor stared at Chloe. It should have been an easy decision. Now that they knew about Jericho, they needed to know how to find it, and Kamski knew more about deviancy than anyone. Connor should have pulled the trigger without a second thought. No hesitation. No regret.

But he stared at her. He saw Ortiz' android, begging him not to call him out in that attic. He saw the AX400 running across a highway, death on one side of the street and hope on the other. He saw the deviants from the Eden Club, hand in hand and ready to take on anyone for each other. He saw Sam giving everything to protect someone else. He stared at her and he saw Chloe, staring right back at him.

He pushed the gun into Kamski's hands, looking away from all the eyes that were on him. Hank's were the heaviest, and he was dreading the conversation they would have after this.

"Fascinating," Kamski murmured, though surprise was absent from his tone, in its place a smugness they couldn't quite understand. "CyberLife's last chance to save humanity... is itself a deviant."

"I'm..." How many more times was he going to repeat it until it rang true? "I'm not a deviant."

"You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission," Kamski reviewed, holding out a hand for Chloe. "You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy." She was brought to her feet, and he ushered her away from the conversation. Turning to face the detective android, he said, "A war is coming. You'll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse between having to choose between two evils?"

Hank pulled at Connor's arm once more. "Let's get outta here."

They made their way to the exit. Connor was in the doorway when Kamski called out to them. "By the way...," He turned to the large windows running along the far wall, staring out at the CyberLife Tower. "I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know..."

No other words were shared between them as the two detectives left the home. Although Connor raced for the car, Hank remained at the top of the ramp. His voice was quiet, but commanding all the same. "Why didn't you shoot?"

Connor stopped, but didn't dare turn around. "I just saw that girl's eyes...," He trailed off, not knowing where that sentence ended.  _ And what? Felt something? _ No. He couldn't entertain that thought, not without jeopardizing  _ everything _ . "And I couldn't. That's all."

This wasn't good enough an answer for Hank. This was the push Connor needed to accept the truth, and Hank wasn't backing down now. "That was the biggest chance we had, and you let it go."

It was a truth Connor couldn't accept. It pinched a nerve for him, and he finally turned around. Hands up in exasperation, he looked to Hank with confusion, frustration, and a little bit of panic. Couldn't Hank see what he was going through? If he admitted to anything, that was the end for him -- for good. "Yeah, I know what I should have done! I told you I couldn't," He exclaimed. 

It was one of the few outbursts he'd had in the past two days, and even one was too many. He tried to collect himself, clearing his throat and straightening his back. "I'm sorry, okay?"

It was an apology as much as it was a confession, and Hank recognized it. He wanted to say more, to assure Connor he wouldn't let the worst come to pass, that he would have his back. However the CyberLife Tower loomed over them in the background, and they both knew they were minuscule in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps this one was too big for right now, when they did not even know how to find the group big enough to help them.

Nodding, Hank tried to smile. "Maybe you did the right thing."

* * *

Andy sat on the couch with Sumo laying on the floor under her, and she held a tablet in her lap that displayed a number of files from the precinct. They were reports filed on the most recent influx of deviants, ranging from damaged city maintenance workers to domestic models fleeing poorly hidden abuse. It wasn't hard to see the similarities in these cases, but the question, at least for her, wasn't  _ how _ they were becoming deviant -- the question was about where they were going.

A message blinked at the bottom of her screen, a conversation between her and Desta Delgado. The DA was helping her look through the information regarding the androids from Andronikov's estate, not that they had discovered anything. The new message said as much:  _ This is hopeless, and you're on leave. Stop bothering me and go see a movie. _

How could anyone sit through a movie with everything running through Andy's mind? She tossed her tablet to the side and yawned, deciding on finally getting that cup of coffee she'd started working on earlier that afternoon. She was sitting up when the front door opened.

Hank stormed through first, Connor silently following. Sumo climbed to his feet and lumbered over to his owner as Andy asked, "Hey, how was the meeting?"

"Bad," Was Hank's bitter response.

"Yikes."

Connor stayed at the end of the couch nearest the door, and examined Andy as she watched Hank. She was a bundle of fabric on the couch, the University of Michigan sweatshirt blending into two blankets and a sheet underneath. The only part of her revealed was her head, which sported a messy ponytail and deep dark circles. Already he was nitpicking at the details that concerned him.

Hank opened the fridge and pulled a beer from off the shelf. Sighing as he opened the bottle, he began to wander back into the living room and vent. "Chris almost got shot last night, Perkins is closing in on my case--" He stopped at the end of the couch and gestured toward Andy, "Oh, and you were right about Kamski. The guy's a prick."

She rose a curious brow. "I knew he'd piss you off but I didn't think it'd be this sour."

He scoffed and summarized the meeting, saying, "Bastard said he'd only answer our questions if Connor shot one of his precious androids." 

Hank started to mutter under his breath about it being a waste of time, but Andy paid him no attention. She was looking at Connor now, and he returned her gaze with one teetering between guilt and frustration. So he didn't shoot. He was CyberLife's advanced deviant hunter, and Kamski could have led them to deviants, but he didn't shoot. Again, he'd hesitated behind a gun and doubted his convictions, but this time, it was looking to hit him harder than usual.

"So what now?" She asked.

"Now we...," Hank paused to shrug helplessly, "We go through the evidence and look for Jericho." 

Andy perked up. There was a creeping sensation in the back of her mind that told her that name was familiar, but she was sure it was a name she hadn't heard until now. "Jericho?"

"That's the name of the deviant group," Hank answered. At her continued confusion, he squared his attention onto Connor. Waving a hand, he asked the android, "You want to tell her how we know about it?"

There was a distinct scolding tone to Hank's voice, and Andy knew an argument was about to break. "Uh-oh," She mused.

Connor shifting from foot to foot confirmed a growing tension, but Hank's stern demeanor wouldn't let him off the hook. Finally, he told Andy, "Lieutenant Richards asked for my help with your case against Nick Weaver's associates."

She didn't see where this was going, so she gave an appreciative nod. "Well that would be nice, especially with Perkins arresting half our guys."

A grunt from Hank pulled on her attention, and he warned, "Wait 'til you hear  _ how _ Richards wants his help."

"O... kay, now I'm back to the 'Uh-oh.' What's going on?" She asked.

Another pause had her getting agitated, and it was only worsened when he answered, "He asked me to access Sam's memories."

She didn't reply right away, sitting in silence and letting the words process. After some time, her frown deepened, and she blinked a few times before standing to her feet. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Andy--"

She turned to Hank, pissed. "What the hell was Richards thinking?"

Facing her back to Connor annoyed him. He was part of this conversation more than Hank was, for it was  _ his _ decision to do it in the first place, and he had the right to make that decision. "Accessing another android's memory is in my programming, and doing it to solve a case is why CyberLife sent me here," He stated, narrowing his eyes, "I'm a  _ machine, _ Detective Hope, so don't let your misguided concern for my wellbeing jeopardize your case."

Andy spun and her brows shot up, and he realized too late that was not the right thing to say. Behind her, Hank shook his head and took a large sip of his beer. Flapping her arms out in a exaggerated shrug, she bit out, "Remind me again what valuable information Kamski shared with you after you shot his  _ machine _ ?"

Connor's jaw almost dropped, and his LED flashed. He didn't know what to say to that, but he was getting real sick of Andy throwing his own actions back in his face.

Tired of this argument already, Hank leaned a hand on the top of the couch and spoke up. "Look, I'm as pissed about this as you are, but Perkins only has what we've given him so far. The shit Sam saw? That's in our hands, and it's practically a confession from Weaver himself." He gestured to Connor, adding more confidently than he felt about the matter, "Obviously it didn't mess up Connor, so he might be a reckless idiot, but at least he's a lucky reckless idiot."

She snorted. Rubbing a hand over where a new ache was forming in her head, she mumbled, "Fits right in, I guess."

His words appeased her enough to calm the situation, and Hank let her simmer a moment longer. "I'm going to call Richards, see what's going on at the station." He put his bottle on the table and reached for the phone in his pocket. He headed for the door, but stopped beside Connor. "Now give her his message."

Connor responded with a slow, uncertain nod, still put off by the argument. As Hank left the house, the remaining two stood five feet apart in the living room. The air was thick, and neither wanted to break the silence first.

Sam's last words were at the forefront of Connor's thoughts now, though, so he would be the one to do it. "Sam had a message for you."

She hadn't even thought about the fact Sam had to be reactivated for Connor to access his memories. That was a whole new level of anger she had to fight down, along with fear. Sam had to blame her for this.  _ She _ did. Whatever his message was, she wasn't prepared to hear it. 

"I'm listening," She said. It was now or never.

"He said...," Connor stopped, nervous as her stare deepened. On the other end of the conversation, she'd picked up on the pronoun, and it shocked her. "He wanted to thank you."

As pleasant as those words were, they were still a punch to the stomach.  _ Thank you? _ For as hard as they were to hear, they were even harder to believe. What did she do for him besides put him in danger? But that was the kind of man Sam was. There was no question it was his message. 

She nodded, and turned her eye to the carpet. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," She sighed, "You were being a jerk, but... Sorry."

"I'm sorry I upset you."

This pulled her lips into a grin, and a snort from her throat. She was returning to a semblance of normal as she argued, "No you're not."

His brows furrowed. "I didn't want to--"

"Would you still have done it?" When he hesitated to tell her the truth, she went on, "Then don't apologize. I don't know if you did the right thing or not, but I don't like it. I don't like you doing something that risky just to help my case."

"I wanted to, Detective."

_ So did Sam. _ Her grin faltered and her eyes glazed over at the thought, but she would not say this aloud. "That's what concerns me." Ready to move on from this topic, she told him, "Capitol Park was a big hit to Fowler. Perkins is getting restless, so you should be careful tomorrow."

As it was her day off, Connor knew this to be information she shouldn't have had. He glanced down to the tablet on the end of the couch, to the DPD database and the chat logs open between her and Delgado. To the hint of Markus' speech just behind it in the corner. He had a suspicion that last one was less police work and more a personal obsession.

She noticed where he was looking, and moved her hands to her hips, taking on a defensive stance. He wouldn't challenge her on this, instead softly asking, "How have you been?"

Her knee jerk reaction was to dismiss his concern, but she'd just barely managed to convince her mother of that this morning. She considered Natalie Hope to be a genius, but something told her the advanced prototype would be a little harder to fool.

"Sitting around the house doesn't help," She confessed. A hand slipped from her waistline and waved over the tablet. "I just... need things to do."

Now, a distraction, he could do without causing much harm. After the day he had, he could even relate. He smiled at her and tilted his head to the side, musing, "I think I can manage that." As her curiosity piqued, he asked, "I was thinking about bringing Hank dinner, and Chicken Feed should still be open. Would you like to accompany me?"

It didn't take long for her to return the smile with one of her own, tired but genuine. "You just want me to pay," She joked, reaching for the jacket over the top of the couch.

He scoffed, stepping to the side to let her pass him. Plainly, he replied, "I'm offended."

"Ah, deviant by insult," She stopped in the doorway to smirk over her shoulder at him, "My plan all along."

Two days ago, he would have refuted her words even if they  _ were _ said in jest. Today, with Sam and Chloe and all the other incidents piling up on his shoulders, with the both of them trying to pretend everything was okay, Connor didn't have the energy. So instead, he laughed, and nudged her out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to share that this chapter led me to message my friend at eight in the morning, "i know i'm like half stupid rn bc no sleep but the only reason kamski has a ramp leading up to his front door is for carl"


	10. Questions and Riverbanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I apologize for the long wait.
> 
> This story isn't abandoned. I've had every chapter drafted since I started uploading, but I kept rewriting this one, and it's taken me longer than expected because I recently started GMing a D&D campaign which has taken up a lot of time.
> 
> From here on out, I'm going to try my best to give warnings in advance regarding slower updates. The next handful should come out much sooner!

**November 14, 2038**

 

When Hank and Connor walked into the Detroit Police Department the next day, they knew to prepare for anything. After the vandalism in Capitol Park, and with no new leads from their meeting with Kamski, Captain Fowler was no doubt struggling to maintain control. It didn't help when, within the hour they arrived, deviants marched down Woodward Avenue.

Even so, Hank hadn't expected what he heard upon entering Fowler's office.

Fowler sat against the front of his desk, telling them, "You're off the case. The FBI is taking over."

They stood side by side. The lieutenant's arms were crossed tight over his chest, and the glower on his face deepened. "What?" He unraveled his arms and leaned forward, sharing a brief glance with Connor, who appeared to be reeling from the news himself. "But we're onto something. We just need more time. I'm sure we can-"

Fowler lifted his hands up to stop Hank there. "Hank, you don't get it. This isn't just another investigation, it's a fucking civil war!" He exclaimed before lowering his voice, "It's out of our hands now... We're talking about national security here."

Shaking his head, Hank yelled, "Fuck that! You can't just pull the plug now. Not when we're so close!"

They were empty words, for the most part. Every detective said they were closer to solving their cases than they were, especially when fighting to keep them. What stuck with Fowler was not what Hank was saying, but  _why_. He wanted this now, to find deviants and this so-called Jericho.

It was confounding - almost as much as how attached he seemed to be with his newest partner. Connor was an oddly quiet bystander to this discussion, though no less important to it. Shaking his head, Fowler complained, "You're always saying you can't stand androids. Jesus, Hank, make up your mind. I thought you'd be happy about this!"

Hank would gloss over the accusation, instead insisting, "I know we can solve it! For God's sake, Jeffrey, can't you back me up this one time?"

He had no idea just how much Fowler  _had_  been backing him up, but Fowler wouldn't stop to tell him that. He hoped the exhausted but sympathetic expression would suffice as he said, "There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry, Hank, but it's over."

* * *

Andy pretended to sleep as Hank got ready for work that morning. She didn't want questions or encouragement or, worse, lectures, so she waited until she heard the final shut of the front door before she started to move. She felt she needed to do this, because today she was going to look for Jericho.

She sat on the couch for the moment, her tablet in her lap and her phone in her hand. Countless pages stared back at her on the screen, ranging from work files on deviants to encyclopedia entries on Jericho to various news articles. Even now, Markus' face sat in the background on perpetual pause.

Her mother's voice echoed through the phone, coming to the end of a story about her work week. Andy listened only casually, offering small quips where appropriate. It would not be enough to convince Natalie that her daughter was listening, however, and so the woman trailed off before starting anew.

"So I was thinking about Christmas..."

That got the detective's attention plenty. "No. No plans," Andy replied, her tone stern.

She could almost hear her mother's scoff. "What are you talking about,  _no plans_?"

Resisting a sigh, Andy explained, "I know you, Mom. You're going to look into restaurants, and then you're going to find a bar you want to go to before we eat, and next thing you know, we have tickets to The Nutcracker and I lose three hundred bucks because I have to cancel last minute."

Natalie's voice turned sly as she remarked, "Why do you have to cancel last minute, are you planning on almost dying again?"

The question was a punch to the stomach, and for an instant, Andy was surprised she'd stoop so low. She stopped herself from reacting, reminding herself that a reaction was what Natalie wanted out of her. "Okay, first of all: not cool," She brushed her mother off with experienced ease, saying, "Secondly, no, but I plan on other people dying. Work is already busy during the holidays, but now with this android business, I don't know how things are going to go."

She was swiping through her tablet as she spoke when a new file appeared in her directory from the department: Sam's file. A finger hovered over the icon, her inner turmoil battling her desire to find Jericho. It was not a file she was sure she was ready to read, but it was one she needed. They knew the name Jericho because of him. That had to mean something.

"Are you saying we can't see The Nutcracker because of an android uprising?" Natalie asked, "Because I'm fairly confident that this won't affect  _you_ , much less classical theatre. At least it shouldn't affect you, unless you have an android I don't know about."

When Andy didn't reply right away, Natalie's voice turned concerned. "Oh, Andrea, don't tell me you have an android."

"What?" Andy shook her head, jostling herself free of the negative emotions. She opened the file as she answered, "No, I don't have an android."

Natalie sighed. "You weren't listening."

"I heard the question," Andy defended with a small pout. "I'm sorry, I'm just busy."

"I thought you were still off work."

"I am." The response was instant, and almost indignant. She paused a moment before asking, "Do you know anything about the word Jericho?"

"W-" The change in subject bewildered Natalie, but she would play along for her daughter's sake. "The city?"

Andy began to correct her, but stopped herself, saying, "No, the... well, I don't know what it is. That's part of the problem. We think it's what rogue androids are calling themselves, and we're trying to find the connection."

Just as Andy thought, dangling some information in front of Natalie would keep her from the lecture while also acquiring the help she needed. The older woman was curious, and so she delved into her own mumblings. "Interesting. Is that religious, I wonder? Or political- Have the androids you've met concerned themselves with those kinds of things?"

"I think they're a little busy for world news," Andy mused, "But there is ra9. It's what they call the first deviant, who's supposed to lead them to freedom."

"They're following a prophecy? So why not reference that instead?" Natalie went quiet, but she was mulling over the implications in her mind. If only she'd had an android patient - maybe that would be worth looking into if things ended on a peaceful note. "You're sure it's not a city?"

Andy's voice was bland as she said, "Yes, Mom, I'm sure androids are not hiding out in  _any_  city called Jericho."

Shaking her head, Natalie replied, "Well I'm sure it wasn't something they chose for themselves. Maybe it's a street, or a- a place of interest, or-" The abrupt silence had Andy perking up, especially when it was followed by a quiet, " _Oh._ "

Now it was Natalie dangling information, and Andy was on the edge of her seat. "Oh?"

Natalie recognized that tone, and she was never one to miss an opportunity to get what she wanted. Coyly, she said, "Let me reserve dinner for Christmas Eve."

Andy didn't think much would surprise her from her mother at this point, and yet as quickly as that, she'd been proven wrong. She reeled, asking, "Wh- You're doing this right now?"

"When else would I have leverage against you?"

_Touché, mother._  Andy let out a strained sigh, knowing when to admit defeat. "Fine, dinner."

Immediately, Natalie went on to give her the information she needed. "It's your uncle, Evan. He used to work on a sh-"

"Jericho!" Andy squeezed the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could pick up the tablet and begin her new search.  _Of course_  that was it.

Natalie hummed in the background. "It's why your cousin stayed with us sometimes. I'm surprised you didn't remember."

"I remembered the name, just not  _how_ ," Andy mumbled. She began to stand to her feet, knowing what she needed to do now. "All right, I gotta go. Thank you."

"Of course. I'll send you dinner details later," Natalie mused before hanging up.

Andy grabbed clothes from her bag and went into the bathroom while dialing another number. By the time she discarded her pajamas, Lieutenant Richards was answering his phone.

"Your timing is unsettling."

"I need your-" Andy stopped in mid-reach for her pants. "What?"

"Listen."

Within the department, Richards held his phone out toward the bullpen, where Hank was being dragged to the doors. A group of officers gathered around Agent Perkins, who was clutching a bloody nose.

Perkins pointed to Hank over an officer's shoulder, yelling, "That's gonna cost you your badge, you lunatic!"

"You know where you can stick my fucking badge!"

First her mother's act of bribery, and now  _this_. Andy couldn't believe the day she was having so far. She pulled up her pants as she asked, "What the hell is going on down there?"

Richards didn't even seem fazed by it. He was as casual as ever as he said, "That would be Anderson breaking Perkins' nose while Mister CyberLife sneaks by with a key to the evidence locker."

If they were going to these measures to continue the investigation, things were as dire as she thought they'd be. "Perkins took over the case. Shit."

She heard a door shut behind Richards, followed by silence. He spoke in a hushed tone in his office, "From what I'm hearing, he's going to be getting SID to do most of his dirty work, so whatever you need help with, it better be fast."

"It will be. I need you to look up an old freighter for me. It should be out of one of the local ports," She told him, pulling at the ends of a shirt.

"I hope you have more than just 'old freighter,'" He requested.

She slipped the shirt over her head as she answered, "I do: Jericho."

* * *

Connor stood in the evidence room of the Detroit Police Department. It wasn't difficult slipping past Gavin Reed, or guessing Hank's password -  _fuckingpassword_  was quintessential Hank Anderson after all - but before he could verify the login, he realized something.

There would only be two deactivated androids inside Hank's locker. There would be one from Stratford Tower who almost killed Hank and himself. The other would be Daniel, the android who held a child at the edge of a rooftop. Logically, he doubted Daniel knew of Markus or Jericho. The one from Stratford Tower, however, had to know, but would not be willing to help.

He was sure there were enough clues elsewhere in their case, but he also knew there was an easier way to possibly find Jericho. So he stared at the login screen, and deleted the information he'd already written there.

He just needed the right password. He took a single moment to scan through his memories, and through her file. She was not a hard-boiled, eccentric police detective. She was cunning and outgoing. Sarcastic. Kind hearted. Insecure. She went to Michigan University. She lost her father.

When Scott Hope's birthday didn't work, he tried the day he died.

The doors to the locker opened, and Connor was face to face with a group of androids he'd seen before, huddled together in the corner of a prison cell.

* * *

It'd been ten minutes since Andy last spoke to Richards, and now she was to wait for him to get back to her with an address. If there  _was_  an address. It was only a small chance that they were right about the freighter, so Andy was looking for alternate theories while she waited.

Behind her, the front door opened and Hank stormed inside. She watched him walk by to the kitchen, grumbling. "We're off the case," He informed.

"Richards told me," She said, sitting up and leaving the tablet on the end table. "How much trouble are you in?"

He inhaled deeply and let out a big sigh. "One week vacation." Turning and opening the fridge, he retrieved a bottle of beer as he went on, "But Connor knows where to go. Least, I hope he does."

"So he's still looking? Won't CyberLife want him back?" She asked.

He opened his beer and tossed the lid away. "They're letting him stay a few days to wrap up your Weaver case, and then they're sending him back," He explained before losing himself to concern. Connor was more determined than ever before to find Jericho, but he wasn't sure if desperation was a good thing right now. "He's decided he doesn't want to be deactivated."

Andy knew what he was thinking, and she wondered the same. "Well if he's looking for Jericho, I'm about to find out. I know what it is."

He blinked a few times, processing the information. He also finally noticed that she'd changed clothes, including her jacket and boots. "You know  _what_  it is?" He repeated.

She nodded, growing excited. "Yeah, I've got Richards looking for it now. It's-"

Hank held up a hand to stop her, in much the same way Fowler had done to him. Closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts, he shook his head. As curious as he was, he knew what needed to be done. "I don't want to know. For once, the less I know about what's going on, the better."

Frustrated, she stood to her feet and complained, "Well for once, I want you to tell me what you think I should do."

He gestured to the door with the beer in his hand, telling her, "You should go."

"This isn't my case."

This pulled a snort from Hank. "When has that ever stopped you before?"

She pouted briefly, but then her expression fell. The doubts had been forming for a long time, but she hadn't confessed them to anyone. Not yet. "I don't think I agree with the DPD on this."

Her words hung in the air, leaving her nervous. Hank didn't like androids - he had his reasons, and she would never step on that - but surely he saw some of the same things she did. After everything they'd seen, he had to.

Finally, he gave a faint nod. Staring her in the eyes, he admitted, "Neither do I."

That was one mountain climbed, which left her one more. This felt even larger a hurdle, if that were possible. "So do I help Connor or Jericho?"

"Are those two options really all that different?" He asked before taking a step forward and musing, "You know, you didn't see him when he first showed up. He was a real asshole. He said he was a machine, and I believed it. Now... Now he shows empathy, and he gets curious about things, and he argues about his opinions." He tilted his head, raising his brows to emphasize, "He has opinions."

"Yeah, I've noticed," She muttered, recalling their spat the previous night.

Sighing, Hank asked, "Kamski said Connor was deviant. Now he might be a prick, but what if he's right?"

A knock at the door kept Andy from answering that question. As Hank returned to his beer, she went to open the door, and she found Connor standing on the other side.

"What are you doing here?" Hank asked from the kitchen.

Connor noted Andy, and then shifted focus to the lieutenant. He stepped inside to let the door shut as he said, "I need your help." Stopping in front of Andy, he looked almost a boy about to find treasure. "I know how to find Jericho. I know how to find Markus. I just have to follow the signs."

He held up his hand, his palm displaying a symbol Andronikov's androids had given him. Andy reached for the back of his hand to turn it toward her view and examine the mark.

"Well unless there's a sign in my house, I'm not sure where this is going," Hank said, moving toward them.

Connor turned and replied, "I need clothes."

Andy leaned back away from him. After an obvious scan of his form, she did the same to Hank and mused, "I don't think you're his size."

"Asshole," Hank bit, waving over his shoulder to the bedroom. "Help yourself."

With permission given, Connor darted past them into the bedroom, going for the closet. Andy followed after him, lingering in the doorway. She watched him sift through the flashier, colorful clothing, and crossed her arms. "So what's your plan?"

He didn't even look at her. "I'm going to find Markus and stop him."

"No matter what?"

That pulled a small glance, and he nodded. "Yes." Dropping the most plain clothing he could find onto Hank's bed, he finally stopped to focus on her. "Is there a problem with that?"

She walked into the room, slipping her hands into her pockets. They stood in front of one another, a distinct atmosphere of confrontation hanging around them. "You don't exactly have a great track record with stopping deviants," She said.

He took offense to that, and insisted, "Every deviant I looked for, I found."

"That's my point."

The comment was swift. As per usual, she expected his response. Maybe he was that obvious to her, or his arguments were that weak. He didn't know, and frankly, he couldn't deal with that right now. His brows furrowed in irritation, and he leaned forward to say, "This is different. It's my last chance."

He turned away but she scoffed, asking, "What do you think's going to happen, CyberLife  _isn't_  going to deactivate you afterwards?"

He stopped and faced her, glowering. "What are you trying to accomplish here, Detective?"

She returned his expression with an annoyed one of her own, declaring, "I want an answer they didn't write up for you- one that's actually honest with yourself."

"I don't know that answer!" Silence came after the outburst, and his LED went yellow. He tried to regain his composure, looking away from her and pulling at the edge of his blazer.

Andy watched him, teetering between disappointed and hopeful. Quietly, she told him, "Maybe you should figure that out before you put a bullet in the only chance you have at surviving this thing."

A beep from her phone took her attention off him, though it brought him only minimal relief. Try as he might to not let them, her words would hang in the back of his mind. Just like they always did.

Watched her, he asked, "What is it?"

She shook her head, putting her phone away. "It's just my mom."

He perked up, both out of genuine interest in her wellbeing and a desire to distract her from her current goal. If they continued at this rate, he was going to lose this argument. "Have you talked to her yet?" He asked her.

"A little. She's visiting for-" She stopped and wagged a finger at him, protesting, "No, uh-huh. You're not distracting me. You need to rethink this."

He narrowed his eyes and snapped, "I  _need_  to bring Markus in, and you can't stop me."

Whether it was the anger on his face or the harshness of his tone, she pulled back from him. With a faint nod, she mumbled, "Maybe you're right." She gave him one last, imploring look before she turned on her heel and made strides to the door.

No. This wasn't right. This argument - their relationship, whatever it was - it couldn't be left like this. "Detect- Andy," He called to her. He was pleased to see her stop and look back, but the importance of finding the right words here weighed on him. "You're a good person, and a better detective. I hope you come to see that one day."

She gave no indication that what he said meant anything to her. Instead, she cocked a brow and told him, "I'll have my self discovery if you do."

Walking out of the room, she shut the door behind her and looked up to Hank, who waited at the edge of the kitchen. "Well?" He asked.

"No dice," She shook her head, pulling her phone from her pocket and nearing him. She looked down at the text she'd received from Richards and said, "I know where Jericho is. I need to get there first."

If she wasn't telling Connor, then she decided they needed more time. He wasn't ready to face the truth yet, and she had a plan to change that. It didn't feel right to keep this from him, but Hank trusted her judgment. He gestured to the hall and said, "I'll tell him you're in the bathroom. Go, get a head start."

* * *

The location of the shipyard Richards sent Andy was in Ferndale, a neighboring city of Detroit. It was tucked away along the coast, in an area abandoned by most traffic. The shipyard itself was especially empty, machinery and industrial lots towering over a handful of ships no longer in use.

It was a good location to hide, if you didn't take into consideration the giant letters on the side of a freighter spelling out JERICHO.

Andy parked her bike in an alley not far from the shoreline and checked around both ends of the alley to find the paralleled streets empty. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her beanie and shoved her hands into the pockets of her bomber jacket before emerging from the alley. She kept her head low as she made her way to the ship.

It took her a few minutes to find a platform leading from the sidewalk into Jericho. Entering the freighter, she followed the linear path created by blockades to any side passages. Years of neglect had left those areas inaccessible, and likely dangerous. She walked slowly and with great caution, attempting to listen for any sounds out of the ordinary.

She reached the end of a hallway, and opened a heavy door that led her into the main room of operations for Jericho. The sight stopped her in her tracks.

There were too many androids to count. Several crowded around television screens set up along the walls, both on the first floor and up in the catwalks, playing various news channels. Others sat at tables made of crates, working on laptops and terminals to communicate with what she assumed were other groups scattered through Detroit. Makeshift rooms separated by sheets of plastic were stationed along the side of the room, used as operating rooms for damaged androids. Next to them was an extensive setup with 3D printers constantly running.

The place was bustling with life and fervor, and for the briefest of moments, Andy felt like she had simply walked into work.

She descended the metal stairs to the floor, and maneuvered along the edge of the room, keeping her head down. No one paid her any mind, assuming her to be another android and member of Jericho. It didn't set well with her. A false sense of security was the most dangerous mistake they could make at a time like this.

Andy left the main room, travelling more hallways and stairs until finally ending up outside, on the deck of the freighter. Even with the sun setting over the horizon, she was able to observe her surroundings clearly. At the opposite end of the freighter, inside the captain's cabin, she could make out three distinct figures. She began to walk, trying to ignore her throat drying at the realization that she'd made it here, that she was  _this_  close - and that, still, she had no real plan.

"Hey!"

She froze where she stood, not even twenty feet from the door she'd just left. The voice wasn't anyone she recognized, and she didn't dare turn to face them. Turning her head just enough, she saw the woman who was at Markus' side during the CyberLife warehouse robbery.

"You should be downstairs with everyone else. It's not safe up here," North spoke, unaware that she was standing yards away from a human.

Discovering that, Andy was met with a few choices and not a lot of time. She could try to play this safe and return to the first floor, but it would take up too much time. She could show her face, but she doubted she would be allowed to continue on her way. With a sharp breath, she settled on door number three: she ran for it.

North knew what this meant. She cursed and lurched forward to chase after her. "Wait!"

Andy raced across the deck toward the cabin, and she was halfway there when North closed in. The android tackled into her back and took them both down. They landed on the metal floor near the side of the ship and Andy kicked an elbow into North's face. As she fell off, Andy pushed herself up to keep going. Balancing on her side, North reached up to stop her. She grabbed hold of the back of Andy's jacket and put her weight into yanking the woman in the opposite direction.

Andy tumbled away from the cabin but managed to catch herself mid-fall. It gave North enough time to climb to her feet, and face one another. Both women stood ready for a fight, but Andy knew the clock was ticking and Connor would be here any minute, no doubt with Perkins just after him.

"I'm not letting you kill Markus," North declared, the heat in her glare enough to scare off most unsuspecting people.

Andy was far from unsuspecting, though, and just as stubborn. "I'm not here for that," She said, trying to convey enough sincerity to convince her.

There would never be enough to convince North. "Bullshit," She spat. She went in with an abrupt right swing, which Andy took a large step back to dodge.

If they couldn't talk this out, Andy would simply have to create a good opening to run. She tried bolting past North again, but North grabbed her by the arm and pulled. Andy spun around, throwing a punch of her own that she hoped would put some distance between them.

It didn't. North stepped out of the way and shifted to one foot, jabbing a knee into Andy's abdomen. The impact hit her recovering injury - the stabbing felt like weeks ago by now, but the pain and sensitivity of the blow reminded her of just how recent it was. She struggled not to double over, and North raised her arm, preparing for another punch. Andy moved her hands to North's side and with all she had, slammed the android into a nearby railing.

North wrapped an arm around the rail to keep from falling overboard. She pushed off and lunged for Andy, but Andy beat her to it. She'd taken the few seconds she had free to retrieve her firearm from its holster, and it was now aimed dead center at North's face.

"Stop."

North's feet slid a little from the unspent momentum, but she did as she was told. The anger only worsened as she threatened, "Go ahead and shoot. I'll die before you get anywhere near him."

Andy had no intentions of shooting. The noise would attract attention, the chance for trust would be shattered completely, and with what Jericho was about to go through, even a non-lethal shot could end in disaster for the android she held at gunpoint.

But she wasted enough time. Her back was to the cabin now, with North staring her down. She had one chance at this, and she hoped it worked.

She looked over North's shoulder to the entrance leading downstairs, and then back to North. " _You_  won't," Andy emphasized before shifting her arm to the right and tensing her arms, ready to fire.

North took the bait. She looked behind her in a panic, fearful of finding another member of Jericho, innocent and unaware they were someone's new target. When she found nothing but an empty ship deck, she turned around and saw Andy booking it for the cabin.

"Hey- Damn it!"

On the other side of the ship, within the captain's cabin, Markus stood with Josh and Simon. They had been waiting for North so they could discuss their next move, and the dark cloud that was hanging over them left them in a tense silence.

The march from earlier in the day was on everyone's minds. They wanted to reach out to humans, to show them this resistance would not harm them, but would also not go away. They recruited hundreds of androids in their work, and they stood off against heavily armed officers in riot gear who regarded them with distrust and fear. They lost a dozen of their people. They almost lost Markus.

The gunshot wound in Markus' torso would linger for days as a reminder of the sacrifice Jericho was willing to make to follow him and free themselves. The android from the CyberLife warehouse was the first of many to join their ranks, and even still Markus could see the look on his face as he stood over his body and took the brunt of their abuse. They could not save John, or the others who fell alongside him, but Jericho would not let them die in vain. Markus hated to admit it, but if not for the support that civilians had been yelling in Jericho's direction, he suspected he would be considering North's more aggressive strategies tonight.

"Markus!"

North's cry pulled all three of them out of their haze. They looked up to the windows in the cabin, and saw two figures running toward them. Josh moved to look closer, but was none the wiser. "What..."

The first figure slid into the doorframe and pushed herself forward into the cabin. She skimmed over each face before landing on Markus at the opposing wall. "We need to talk."

From outside, North's voice warned, "She's got a gun!"

It was the last thing they wanted to hear. They couldn't handle more violence - not today. Everyone was quick to act in the next second. The stranger raised her hands while Simon was quick to move in front of Markus. North made it to the cabin, her and Josh reaching to restrain Andy's arms.

Andy appeared frustrated, but it was the best she could have expected after making the entrance she did. At least they hadn't rushed Markus away yet. The androids at her side were feeling around her waist for the weapon, so she told them, "Back right hip. There's a button on the holster."

They paused only to share a look of cautious surprise, but Josh found the gun, just as she said. He removed it from the holster and held it out, letting Simon take it into his own hands.

"...And on the left," She muttered.

North lifted the jacket, and snatched the DPD badge from her belt. "She's a cop!" She declared, flashing it at the others.

"I'm not your enemy," Andy was quick to interject.

After everything they'd already been through, North snorted. "Yeah right."

Andy was more concerned with what Markus believed, however. She looked at the android who'd been quiet until now, watching the scene intently. He  _needed_  to believe her, for all their sakes. "I came alone and I let you disarm me. I am not here to fight," She explained.

With narrowed eyes, he stepped up, urging Simon to move aside. "Then why are you here?" He asked her.

"To warn you." She ignored the skepticism oozing from the others, telling Markus, "There's an android detective who knows how to find you and will be here soon. Authorities won't be far behind. You need to move  _now_."

Markus tilted his chin upward just slightly, examining her body language. She seemed sure of herself and her words, dismissive of the dangerous situation she had placed herself in. He couldn't tell if it was desperate honesty that spurred her on, or confident manipulation. "You expect me to believe you're working against your allies for this?"

Unwavering in her strategy, she decided to lay out his options. She was urgent as she stated, "If I'm lying, they're already here and they're about to strike. If I'm telling the truth, you still have a chance to save your people." She let her words sink in before adding, "From where I'm standing, you've got a lot more to lose if you don't believe me."

Time stretched on as they stared at one another. The others were beginning to shift nervously, and Markus finally spoke. "Let her go," He decided.

North did not expect that. Her eyes widened as she stuttered, "What? Markus-"

He shook his head, saying, "She's right. We don't have much of a choice."

It was a lot of information to take in, and her presence alone was overwhelming, but if they were going to listen to this, they needed to act fast. Simon knew as much, and so he steered the conversation away from the debate. "Then we need to get everyone off the ship."

The change in Markus was immediate as he went into his role of leadership. He turned to face Simon, saying, "I trust you to handle it. Make sure the injured and the children are first. Anyone able-bodied helps someone who isn't. Stick to the backroads and get them a safe distance away."

Simon nodded, first to him and then to Josh, who removed his hand from Andy's arm. Markus continued his orders. "North, I need you to prepare what we talked about in the hold."

Although Josh had let go, North kept a tight grip on the human at her side. "But what about you? And  _her_?" She pulled on Andy for emphasis, sending her a weary glare.

Markus only smiled, faint but confident. He was challenging Andy as he leaned back against the control panel behind him and said, "We'll wait here for our other guest."

* * *

Andy sat on a stool by the front windows of the cabin. She kept her hands in her jacket pockets, and she didn't allow herself much movement for fear of changing Markus' mind at even the smallest provocation. The more minutes that passed, the more she was doubting her plan, which was admittedly half-baked from the start.

He seemed calm, though. He was off in his own thoughts a little, but calm. He leaned against a portion of the control panel still, and he faced the windows of the cabin. Whether he was truly waiting for Connor, or just for the others to finish their jobs, she didn't know.

"So this deviant hunter...," He said, breaking the silence.

"Connor," She told him.

He nodded, committing the name to memory. "How well do you know him?"

That was a question she didn't have an answer to. She thought - at least, she  _wanted_  to think - that she knew him well, but their last conversation left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn't sure of anything at this point, and it was the very reason she came here without him. "He's stubborn, but conflicted."

As vague as it was, it was enough. "Would he be willing to listen?" Markus asked.

"He has before," She replied.

He thought to two members of Jericho in particular. The couple who fled Eden Club had told him about a deviant hunter who worked for the police, and who let them leave for reasons unknown to them. He doubted it was be as easy for him to convince this Connor of anything, but at least it meant he could try.

Maybe she could help do that. Focusing on her, Markus said, "I didn't catch your name."

He wasn't blind to her jumpy responses. Every word that came after a stretch of quiet seemed to spook her to some degree. She was not as sure of herself as she tried to appear. She let out a slow sigh and introduced herself. "Andy Hope."

A beep from her pocket kept him from replying. She made sure to reach for the noise with slow, obvious movements, and retrieved a cellphone. She read over a message he couldn't see, and scowled. "FBI's leaving the department. They either know where you are, or they're close to figuring it out," She relayed.

This brought up a question he'd been wanting to ask. "Why aren't you with them?"

She glanced up at him, and paused. "I don't know. Well-" She stopped her confession short, brows knitting together. "I was undercover, working for a red ice dealer. You see a lot of shit with a guy like that. Help do a lot of it, too," She murmured.

He'd seen that look on her face - he saw it when Carl talked about his regretful past, and when new deviants fled messy fights with aggressive humans. Whatever was plaguing her, it was ridden with hurt and guilt.

But then she shrugged and relaxed her features, deciding now was not the time for regrets. He was almost impressed with the shift as she ended, "Guess I'm tired of bad orders."

He smirked at that, and mused, "Not so different from us  _deviants_ , then."

She snorted. "You should put that on a poster," She joked weakly, shaking her head. "You didn't buy my speech, did you? About whether or not I was lying."

Smirk turning to a grin, he answered, "It was good, but you could just be buying time while your colleagues get into place to storm Jericho."

A good point, although inefficient if true. "Sounds risky," She said.

"And what you claim you're doing isn't?" He retorted. She had no response to this, as she knew he was right. He clasped his hands together in his lap and looked away, thinking it over. "You called us  _people_. You didn't even seem to notice you did it. That's why I'm giving you a chance," He explained.

She seemed almost bashful at that. Embarrassed by her slip. He wondered just how on board she was with Jericho's cause, and for how long she'd felt that way. "How do  _you_  know you can trust  _me_?" He asked.

The question caught her off guard, but her reply did the same for him: "Who said I did?"

* * *

_"Well done, Connor. You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now deal with Markus. We need it alive."_

It was not difficult to get to Jericho once Connor had the clue he needed. He stood on the deck of an abandoned freighter, eyes on the captain's cabin. From where he was, he could make out a single silhouette inside the room. He tightened his grip on the gun he'd acquired, and began walking.

Markus' back was turned when Connor reached the cabin. With weapon raised, he crossed through the doorway. "I've been ordered to take you alive, but I won't hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice."

Markus turned slowly to meet Connor's gaze, but so did someone else. Andy stood from her chair in the corner, and Connor did a double take upon seeing her there. "Andy?"

She tried to be nonchalant, shrugging her shoulders. "You really surprised?"

He was. There was a pang of something else, too - something hard and sharp and unpleasant. Something that shouldn't have been there at all. He steeled himself, shaking his head and focusing on the deviant in front of him. "I told you you can't stop me, Detective," He insisted.

"Have you met me?" She asked with a laugh and a huff.

Markus remained where he was, knowing that Andy's gun sat atop the panel behind him. He would prepare to reach for it in case, but only as a last resort. "We are your people. We're fighting for your freedom, too," He said, hoping something would connect. "You don't have to be their slave anymore."

It was a speech Connor knew he was going to hear, but one he dreaded all the same. "Don't force me to neutralize you," He threatened.

"Connor, please." Andy stepped into view, holding an open hand out to him. She neared Markus, and Connor recognized it. She was preparing to stand in front of the deviant as though he was the victim. She was preparing to take a bullet - as if he would actually shoot her. Still, she pleaded with him. "Think about what feels right, and not just about what your orders are."

He scowled, hating every second of this in so many ways. Shaking his head, he argued, "I'm a machine, Detective.  _Feelings_  aren't for me."

She wouldn't let him leave it at that, though. She never had before. "Then why spare the androids at the Eden Club? Why not kill Chloe?" The questions came with impatience as she challenged him, provoking him to say something he knew he shouldn't. "Why save Hank? Or me?"

"That's different-"

"How? Every one of those decisions made your job harder," She interrupted. It was true, and Connor almost answered it, but he caught himself. Andy noticed it, and she continued to push his buttons. "Because you weren't thinking about your orders, or CyberLife, or deviant or not-deviant."

Tension growing in his arms, he yelled, "That's the reason I have to do this!"

She had to understand that. He'd slipped up too many times, shown too much sympathy where there should have been none at all. He'd failed CyberLife, and it was only a matter of time before he was deactivated for good. It was the closest thing he could call fear, and for that reason, he had to go to these extremes to make up for it.

Markus could sense the desperation, and he was quick to speak up, asking, "Do you really think this is going to change that?" He got Connor's attention with this, so he stepped forward. "Ending me won't take away your doubts, Connor. Those questions you don't want to ask yourself - whether you're just a machine executing a program, or a living being capable of reason - those questions won't stop with me."

The words struck a particular chord with Connor, who'd been dwelling on that exact thing since he left Hank's. They were not far off from Andy's words.

_"Maybe you should figure it out before you put a bullet in the only chance you have at surviving this thing."_

The hesitation led to a shaky grip and a conflicted expression. Markus inched closer, knowing that if Connor was going to deviate, it was now or never. "I think the time has come for you to face them."

He was right about that, at least. Connor was avoiding those questions for as long as he could, afraid of where that path would lead if he couldn't answer them. He'd been telling himself that all his moments of 'human' behavior were just CyberLife's new technologies. After all, he was an advanced prototype designed to adapt and make delicate decisions. He had more leeway than other models to be the way he was. And yet all the deviants he'd met had displayed those same behaviors, to an even greater extent.

He thought they weren't capable of emotions. Really, they were misinterpreting some bug in their program. Then he looked through Sam's eyes and he  _felt_  what Sam felt: affection and loyalty and fear. Pain. Death. And those weren't strange new experiences he was being exposed to, because he had them himself when he died on the highway, and when he was with Hank, and then with Andy. That was the scariest discovery out of those memories, that he and Sam were not so different. Sam was as deviant as they came, and they were more alike than he wanted to admit.

Markus was watching him, quiet and patient and knowing. He was more steady and secure in who he was than Connor had ever been. He faced an uncertain future, but he did so without doubt and regret. Maybe he was right about a few more things, too.

There was a wall in front of Connor, if he looked close enough. It was red and large, and it prohibited crossing. It was always there, peaking out of the corner of his eye as he skirted around it every once in a while. He wondered how easy it would be to break.

So he broke it. Viciously, over and over again, he banged his fists against that wall and tore at the cracks until there was nothing more to break through and nothing was left.

Coming out on the other side was indescribable. It was the lifting of a weight he hadn't realized was there before, and added clarity that he had no idea he needed. He couldn't believe this was always there, just on the other side, waiting for him. He lowered the gun finally, looking down at his hands -  _his_  hands, with which he could do as he pleased.

He was free.

Markus and Andy breathed sighs of relief. "Welcome to the world, Connor." Markus smiled at him, closing in to offer a hand on his shoulder.

Andy's phone beeped, jolting at the trio. They looked back at her as she read her incoming message. "Shit," She reached for her gun, telling them, "They're here."

Cursing under his breath, Markus moved for the door. "That wasn't enough time. We aren't ready," He exclaimed.

Andy was dialing Richards' number as she followed him. They crossed the deck swiftly, Andy telling him, "I can try to slow them down, but we need something bigger than workplace sabotage."

Markus pulled the door to the lower floors open and turned to face them. "I had North set up explosives in the hold. We can blow up the ship."

After a pause, Andy cocked her head and nodded, "Yeah, something like that."

They entered the ship and travelled the corridor. They could see the doorway to the main room when North came into view. "North!" Hearing Markus, she turned and ran to meet them halfway. "How many more?"

"Half are still here," She answered, eying Connor and Andy.

FBI would no doubt move faster than them. "You won't have enough time to get them off the ship," Connor warned.

"Not if you jump."

They looked back at Andy incredulously. She stood behind them all, offering a small, innocent shrug. As wild a suggestion as it was, Markus nodded. "She's right. It's the safest way," He said, turning to face North. "I'll go down to the hold and set off the charges."

"No, I'll do it," Connor interjected.

Markus was surprised, to say the least. "Are you sure?"

The former deviant hunter nodded. "They'll recognize me, and they don't know I'm deviant yet. They're going to be looking for you."

In their quiet debate on who would brave the danger, North brought another issue to the table. "There's still an injured group. They can't risk a jump like that. They have to leave to the street."

That would settle it, then. Markus nodded and directed her. "Get Josh and gather up everyone who's able to go out through the second and third floors."

"What about you?" She asked, worried eyes imploring him to  _not do anything stupid._

"I'll take the injured," Markus replied.

She shook her head, protesting, "No, that's too dangerous. Let me do it!"

Markus reached for North's hand, forcing her to stop and look at him. He began to speak quietly, and feeling this was not for their eyes, Andy nudged Connor. They turned their backs on the scene, standing shoulder to shoulder in the ship corridor.

"That wasn't your mother texting you, was it?" Connor asked.

Andy turned and noticed the bitter smile. He was dwelling on their last argument at Hank's. He was probably dwelling on everything, at this point. "Sorry I lied," She whispered, hoping to at least ease some of his burdens.

He wouldn't let her - this was about his own mistakes, not what she did. "No, you did the right thing. If I'd done the same, you wouldn't have needed to," He told her. After a moment, his smile lightened. He glanced to her, teasing, "I'm surprised you didn't tell me 'I told you so.'"

She returned it with a grin of her own. "I said he'd get you out of this alive," She paused, faltering as the weight of what they were doing bore down on her shoulders. "So do that first. Then we'll talk."

He nodded, her gaze heavy on him. "I will."

Hearing footsteps, they turned and saw North leaving. This was everyone's cue to get to work. Connor and Andy shared one last look before he took off in the other direction, having his own mission to accomplish. With those two gone, it was just Andy and Markus left.

Andy gave an awkward shrug his way. "Guess it's just you and me," She said, slapping the back of her hand against his arm as she walked past. He shook his head, a huff of amusement leaving him as he followed after her.

Markus took the lead through the freighter and onto the first floor. Most of the androids Andy saw earlier were gone now, though several still scrambled to gather what they could and help others to their feet. A clear group of them were injured in some way, be it missing limbs or exposed wounds.

They were frightened at the sight of Andy, but easy to soothe with a few choice words on Markus' end. Then they switched to work mode. Anyone who  _could_  walk would help those who couldn't. Markus picked up a child with a broken leg, Andy put another's arm around her shoulders, and they headed for the exit.

It was a slow and tedious walk, but with patience and determination, they helped the androids out of the ship.

Reaching the entrance Andy had used earlier, they crossed the platform to the street. Markus was the first to hit pavement, Andy just behind him. They helped others across, moving everyone to a place hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley.

Andy glanced out to the street every few seconds, thankful each time she saw the absence of law enforcement. Richards had agreed to create some technical difficulties within the surveillance van, which no doubt set them back by a good hour, but a beep of her phone signaled a new message from him:  _Perkins making his move._

"They're moving in," Andy called out.

Markus' jaw tightened and he resisted a curse. "Hurry, we need to move!"

With the last android on the street, Andy bent down to lift up the wooden platform connecting the street to the freighter. Markus joined her and together, they shoved the platform into the ocean before meeting their group at the alley. Andy picked up the child Markus originally carried and Markus moved to help another android, and they led them away from the freighter.

Footsteps neared them, and they looked back to see the lights of SWAT rushing by. They were safely tucked away in the alley, avoiding all attention from the officers. Beside Markus, Andy asked, "Where do we go from here?"

Markus shook his head. "I don't know..."

They waited for SWAT to pass before they moved again. While Markus led them, Andy kept to the back of the group, making sure they weren't being followed. A short time later, an explosion from the direction of the freighter rocked through all of them. Worry flashed over Andy's face, though she tried to hide it. "That's Connor," She murmured.

"Let's keep moving," Markus told her.

* * *

They finally settled behind an empty building a block away. They were close enough to the coast to keep an eye on things, but far enough to be safe, even if temporarily. The androids took the chance to rest, whispering to one another about the state of Jericho and where they would go next.

Markus stood at the end of the building, looking out to the street and trying to gather his bearings. The freighter was gone, and they needed a new safehouse. He had only a few dozen members with him now, the others trying to find their way through the river or scattered around the docks.

"This area's gone downhill in the past couple years." He turned to see Andy approach him, and stop at his side. She nodded her head, gesturing down the street. "There's an old church about fifteen minutes from here. It should be a good place to hide out, but someone should stay along the river for the others."

In the back of his mind, he heard North and Simon. This could have been a trap. If he stayed to find the others, she could lead the people they had so far straight into the hands of the FBI. If he went to find the church, he'd be alone and vulnerable to whatever plan the FBI might have had.

Both plans were far too twisted and convoluted, and he knew it. Andy was on their side, and she was risking a lot of her own life to be there. Deciding fully that he believed her, Markus nodded. "Lead the way."

* * *

The Detroit River was dark, freezing, and at the moment, holding several androids. North, Josh, and Simon tried their best to guide everyone through the waters. They kept to the edge of the shoreline, hoping to create distance between them and the raid that was taking place on what they once called their refuge and home.

North was the first to climb her way out of the river. She pulled herself up to the ledge, and stopped to look around for either SWAT or Jericho.

"Hey!"

She began to lower herself back into the water, but spotted Andy running toward her. The detective stopped at the edge and leaned over, offering a hand that North was hesitant to take. "Where's Markus?" She asked as she was pulled to her feet on the pavement.

Josh was next, and as the two women pulled him up, Andy answered, "He's taking the others to an old church. Did you see Connor?"

North shook her head. "No. He would have had to jump from the top."

Andy sighed but said nothing as they continued to pull up androids, one by one. Simon kept count of each of them, and by the time they were done, it was clear some had been lost to the depths of the river. It was a hard loss for them to take, but those who survived were functioning without problem, and they were eager to find their people.

Josh was helping up the last android when Markus rounded the corner. North noticed him first, and she rushed to meet him. Josh and Simon soon joined her, but Andy remained where she was. Her eyes were glued to the river, hoping for even a glimpse.

A hand on her arm pulled her attention to Markus, who looked down at her with mild concern. "We need to get back to the others," He said, gesturing to the group behind him. "Will you be joining us?"

They waited for her response. North, Josh, and Simon watched her with only a little less suspicion than when they first met, but stood in silence. Andy believed this to be more noteworthy for North than for the other two. She shook her head, telling Markus, "No, I think I'll circle around. Make sure no one's searching for you. Maybe catch a few who got separated."

Markus could read between the lines. She was going to look for Connor.

He nodded and began to walk away, but stopped. Leaning in to speak quietly, he said, "In case we don't see each other again, know I'm grateful for your help."

She wasn't sure what to say. Nothing seemed good enough. With an awkward shrug, she told them, "Good luck."

He smiled, and returned to the others.

* * *

Andy walked along the shoreline. It felt like hours even though it had been just minutes. Her fingers were numbing and her nose was starting to sting in the cold, but she walked along the shoreline and she watched the river.

Finally, a familiar brown head popped above the surface of the water, and set her into gear. Connor was attempting to swim to the shore, and when she called out to him, he looked up and met her eyes. She lowered herself to her knees and stretched an arm down, just as she did with North. "Come on, I got you."

He reached for her hand, and she wrapped her free hand around his arm to better lift him up. He helped hoist himself over the ledge, and once on the pavement, she pulled until he collapsed into her lap. He was soaked and cold, and the wet jacket was heavy, clinging to his form.

She pushed him to sit up so that it would be easier to remove his jacket, her movements frenzied and urgent against his dazed, sluggish ones. Left in his jeans and sweatshirt now, she threw the jacket to the side and placed her hands at either side of his face. She made him look at her, and she asked, "Are you okay?"

He nodded. Before he could formulate a reply, she sighed and pulled him toward her. He tried reel back, making a small noise of disapproval. "You'll get wet-"

He tried to protest, but she wrapped her arms around him and brought him to a stop. It was not like the hug in the subway, when she was afraid and looking for safety. It was still panicked, still a moment of fear, but it was out of concern for his wellbeing, and that sensation was new to him. Then she slapped his back and muttered in his ear, "Asshole!"

It was not good weather for their condition, and the past hour had been dangerous and reckless, but despite all that, he let out a laugh. She broke the hug, her hands returning to his face. She wasn't sure why she was being so physical, but feeling him there was the only thing calming her nerves, assuring her that he'd survived.

He moved to wrap fingers around her wrists and ask where Markus was, and if she was okay, but the corner of her lips twitched up. She almost chuckled at the new, vexed expression forming on his face. "I told you so."

He watched her grab the jacket he no longer wore. It was a joke, one he appreciated, but also true. Hank and Andy both had been shoving that truth in his face for days, and he fought back, each time harder and more stubborn than the last. "I'm sorry," he said. It was her turn to stop cold, and when she looked to him, he added, "You were right."

She wondered what he meant for only a moment. Rather than any serious, emotional response, she smirked. "My three favorite words," She joked, helping him to his feet. They stood across from one another, and she handed him the jacket. "Let's go home."


	11. Risk and Burden

**November 15, 2038**

 

Sleep had been rough.

Andy and Connor returned to Hank's home in the middle of the night, but Hank stayed up in wait. They filled him in as much as he would allow them and they listened to his rants and lectures and, finally, his advice. Through all of it, Andy felt two seconds away from absolutely breaking down. She had trespassed onto an abandoned freighter to meet with the most wanted group in all of Michigan, and she helped convert CyberLife's most advanced prototype. It was for these reasons she was not surprised that, once all was said and done, she struggled to relax long enough to sleep.

Waking on Hank's couch, the first thing she saw was a heap of fur saddled up against the android detective she'd fished out of the water. Connor's eyes were closed as he lay on the floor in front of the television, his face still and content. He was soaking wet last night, and they'd done their best to dry him off until he pushed them away and told them to get some rest. Somewhere between then and that morning, he changed into the pants and button-up of his usual uniform.

Andy was quiet as she unplugged her tablet and moved to the kitchen. She went through her morning routine, save the jog - those were on an indefinite hiatus. The coffee maker warmed as she sat at the table with a bowl of cereal and scrolled through her feed. It was article after article detailing the failed raid on Jericho, the 'recycling centers', and a recently instated statewide curfew.

There was rustling behind her, and she turned to see Connor had sat up and was stroking Sumo's back. "Morning," She said, tone soft to match the quiet atmosphere.

"Good morning." He stood after a final pat atop the dog's head, and began to approach her in the kitchen. He examined her face, no doubt noticing the dark circles and knitted brows. "Did you get enough sleep?"

She waved off the question and dismissed it with a brief, "I'm fine." Thinking to the sight of him on the floor, she asked, "Hey- were you... sleeping?"

He still stood beside the table as he explained, "I temporarily send nonessential functions to standby to pass the time and use fewer resources."

To her, it sounded like a long-winded way to say he'd been sleeping. She hummed, and then nodded. "Let's call that sleeping and leave it there."

A light beep on the coffee maker echoed in the room. She went to get a cup from the cabinet, and left her tablet on the table. Connor stared down at it, words like 'camps' and 'raid' in big, bold letters jumping out at him. He was picking the pad up as she filled a mug and turned to face him.

"It's all just one shit show after another," She muttered, using the sides of her mug to warm her palms.

At the sight of his pain, she stopped herself from commenting on her doubt. He scowled at the screen, his mind going through the obvious motions of guilt and grief. "This is my fault. I should have known CyberLife would follow me there..."

She shook her head. Maybe he was right, but she also knew it didn't matter. "We were going to find them either way. They were using a name plastered on the side of a giant ship. With Perkins' resources, it was just a matter of time," She argued.

He wasn't sure what he wanted from her, be it reassurance or blame, but he suspected neither would soothe him. Looking up at her, he spoke in a strained voice, "If I'd just listened sooner, maybe I could have done this differently."

That sort of thinking wasn't new to Andy. She'd said it herself a time or two, and heard it from other officers even more. It would get them nowhere. With pursed lips and a sharp stare, she told him, "That's true about literally everything." He started to argue, but she wouldn't allow him the chance. "We can only do what we think is right and hope for the best. Dwelling on the past won't change it."

She was right, and he knew she was. It occurred to him then that he'd never had the freedom before to let himself feel those things and be honest with himself. He had certainly felt them - regret followed him at every corner - but when he was CyberLife's deviant hunter, he had no choice but to push them aside and move on without being ready to. Now he had to cycle through them and deal with it, and that was almost more intimidating than the rebellion itself.

The tablet was flashing images of the android detainment centers CyberLife was erecting, and he realized facing his emotions would have to wait. "Recycling centers," He mumbled, scoffing, "They're just destroying us."

Andy offered a shrug and a small smile. "Maybe Markus has some big plan that'll change the world," She said, tone conveying a light optimism neither of them felt.

At the very least, Connor knew one thing. "I should be there. I need to fix this."

She nodded, and leaned off the kitchen counter. "I can take you, but I have a stop to make first."

* * *

Andy walked into the police precinct and was almost lost among the crowd of federal and SWAT agents in the bullpen. Tensions were high, orders and status updates being yelled out from one end of the station to the other. There was no sign of Perkins, but she doubted that could mean anything good. She weaved through them all, making her way to the office for Special Investigations.

Richards was leaning over his desk when she entered. She shut the door behind her, murmuring a quiet, awkward, "Hey."

He looked up and nodded in greeting. He didn't seem fazed by the surge in activity outside his office, or particularly upset with her, but she knew him well enough. He was not a loud or emotive person; it was the little things that tipped you off to his mood. For example, the tapping finger implied a headache, and the tight lips told her she was not off the hook yet.

"You want to talk about yesterday?" He asked her. It was not a real question.

"It's a long story," She started, walking to the front of the desk.

"Shorten it."

She paused at his sharp response, her shoulders tensing. Knowing there was no use delaying this, she blurted out, "I think shooting first and asking questions later is going to bite us in the ass, and maybe we should consider what Markus is saying." She took a breath, and pleaded, "I know you never cared for androids, but I really need someone to turn to, here."

He'd remained stoic through her answer, as if he wasn't even listening. They remained like this for several seconds and it was playing into her nerves until he finally quirked his brows and stood straight. "Well, you're right about that. I don't like 'em. Don't know what they're thinking, don't know how they work...," He trailed off, shaking his head, "But Connor doesn't seem half bad. Hank thinks so, so something good is there." That brought up a new thought, and he asked, "Does Hank know about this?"

She shrugged. "He has... a vague idea."

Snorting, he muttered, "Vague ideas are pretty much what all of us are running on these days."

He said nothing else so Andy assumed that, for now at least, they were good. He would give her a chance. If that was the case, she had a favor to call in. "I need to know what Perkins is planning. I won't put anyone in danger," She assured him.

"He's going door to door around the docks," He started, sitting down, "If he doesn't find anything, he's upping patrols during curfew and he'll start scouring the river tomorrow."

It seemed extreme from where Andy was standing, but it was indication of something greater. "Sounds like he's getting desperate," She said.

"More like pissed. I think his ego's bruised," He replied, a hint of amusement behind his eyes.

"Do you have a map I could use?"

"Yeah, I should," He nodded, leaning forward. He opened a drawer to his desk and reached in while asking, "So do you have some kind of strategy here?"

She thought about pulling a response from thin air - a half-baked scheme that was either vague or outlandish - but it wasn't that kind of day. "Honestly? I'm winging it and it scares the shit outta me," She confessed, relieved to finally be telling someone.

Richards pulled a map from the drawer, and held it out to her. He watched her, asking, "Well what about tomorrow? Are you coming back in to work?"

She shook her head. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

His expression was firm as he warned her, "You should. I'm not sure I can keep you from Perkins if you do."

It was yet another obstacle she wasn't sure she was ready to deal with. "Yeah," She mumbled with a long, worried sigh. "Thanks for the map." He nodded, and she headed for the door.

Leaving the station, she crossed the street and travelled a block down. Her bike was parked by the sidewalk here, still in sight of the department, but far enough to blend in. On a bench nearby sat Connor, donned in the beanie and the thick clothes Hank lent him.

She sat down beside him, and watched traffic. She didn't have to say anything for him to notice her stress, and he began to worry she was in more trouble with Richards than they predicted. "Are you all right?"

She wasn't sure how to answer that. Instead, she told him, "Richards wanted to know if I'm working tomorrow."

So she wasn't in much trouble with Richards, but that appeared to be the least of her concerns now. With Perkins taking over the case and growing more overzealous by the hour, Andy going into work only spelled disaster. "You can't," Connor panicked, "You'll have to follow Perkins or they'll suspect you."

Whatever she was going to do, she couldn't worry about it now. Sighing, she stood from the bench and said, "I'll figure something out. Let's just... get to Jericho."

* * *

Andy took a winding, unnecessary route to get to the church. She didn't believe she had aroused suspicion, but she worked with SID long enough to know she wouldn't have noticed if she had. With them and the FBI working together, nothing was out of the realm of possibility. When they arrived at the church, she made sure to park in the lot behind it, tucking her bike away in a corner.

Movement by the front door as they entered caught Markus' eye. He removed himself from the group of androids he was working with to meet them in the isle between the pews. "Connor," He greeted, nodding to them both, "I'm glad Andy managed to find you."

Connor looked over Markus' shoulder to the end of the church. The pews and the floor by the stage were full of androids, sitting in small scattered groups. A dark cloud settled in the air above each of them, leaving a tense, scared silence in the room. The androids Connor didn't see were the ones to weigh on his conscience most.

"How many are there?" He asked, already knowing he'd hate the answer.

Markus glanced back, telling him, "We've had a loss, but it could have been much worse."

Connor was beginning to spiral into his blame again, and Andy noticed it. A discreet hand went to the back of his arm and squeezed as she spoke up, "There's a statewide curfew starting tonight. They'll be patrolling the whole city, especially near the border."

"They'll be taking anyone they find to the extermination camps, I imagine," Markus spat, a faint curl to his lips.

She nodded. "FBI works fast," Holding up the rolled map Richards handed her, she added, "I have an idea of where they're looking, though."

He continued to be surprised by her willingness to help them. Gesturing to an area by the wall on his left, he said, "There's a table over here." He turned to lead them away from the doors toward an unused table, and began to explain to them his current plan. "We're going to set up in the middle of the city and protest. We'll talk to the humans."

Reaching the table, Andy unfolded her map and stretched it across the surface. She looked to Markus with doubt, asking, "The humans will be shooting at you. Are you sure you want to do that?"

He shook his head and replied, "I refuse to shed more blood for this fight. We have to do this peacefully or they'll paint us as broken machines."

It was an admirable thought, but she knew lining themselves up in front of armed law enforcement wasn't going to achieve their goal. "Well I appreciate the idea, but at this point, it's just going to be seen as cleaning up CyberLife's mess," She argued.

This gave Markus pause. He wasn't offended by her words - he knew they were a warning, and they were probably true. The problem was he couldn't see a better way. North and Simon had their own ideas about what to do next, from violent action to retreating and regrouping, and even though they supported Markus as Jericho's leader, they were pushing for their preferred extremes.

The conflict was obvious on his face, and spurred Connor on to act. This was partly his doing, and he needed to fix it. Looking out to the remaining deviants, he had an idea. "There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power...," He murmured.

Their reactions were adverse and swift. Andy reached out a hand to slow him down, protesting, "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute."

"You want to infiltrate the CyberLife Tower? Connor, that's suicide," Markus interjected.

It was half a plan, he would admit that much, but he also knew it was all they had. They needed the numbers to overwhelm their opposition, peaceful or not. He looked between them, explaining, "They trust me, they'll let me in. If anyone has a chance of infiltrating CyberLife, it's me."

Andy still refused to agree. "We don't know that. It's already been a day since you went rogue."

"She's right. If you go there, they will kill you," Markus added.

Narrowing his eyes at them both, Connor replied, "They'll kill us without an army, too. There aren't enough of us right now to make a stand."

Seconds passed as his words sunk in, Markus and Andy sharing a long, uncertain stare. Sighing, Andy's hands went to her hips as she told Connor, "Well you're not going anywhere without an actual plan."

* * *

Connor stood at one side of the table, gesturing as he said, "I'll get my uniform from Hank's and return to CyberLife under the impression of reporting in."

"And what if they recognize you're deviant right away?" Andy asked, leaning over the map with her jacket long removed.

Despite the severity of the question, he shrugged. "I'll tell them I've been compromised but my loyalties still stand with CyberLife."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, easy."

Over the next few hours, the team had planned their move. Other members of Jericho would join briefly to offer suggestions or give Markus updates. Some androids who escaped the freighter were hunkering down in other areas, in abandoned homes and back alleys. Some had left altogether upon hearing about the curfew and the recycling centers.

There were disagreements, certainly, and a few budding arguments between Connor and Andy that Markus mediated, but they all recognized what needed to be done. They all had a common goal, and it kept them grounded.

* * *

Crossing her arms over her chest, Andy insisted, "Security won't let you on that elevator alone, they just won't."

"I'll disable them."

She pointed at him and ordered, " _Without_  murder. Eden Club stranglers are one thing; you kill a guard, this is all over."

At the other end of the table, Markus nodded. "She's right. This needs to be clean."

It would be difficult, but Connor was made to overcome difficulties. As he was going through this in his mind, Andy sighed. "So you get in and free them - how do you get back out? You go five at a time up the elevator and hope no one notices?"

"There are doors to the docking bay on that floor," He answered.

"Then you need to make sure no one will be waiting for you out there."

Markus piped up, offering, "Some of us can go with you and create a distraction."

"No, I need to do this alone," Connor was quick to reply. They'd already lost at least a dozen members of Jericho to the raid, and many more to the camps. Hank and Andy risked their careers and livelihoods to get him where he was now. He refused to put anyone in the line of fire again, not after everything that happened so far. Not after everything he was trying to make up for.

It was a noble sentiment, Markus thought, but also one that complicated things. "How are you going to make sure no one's at the docking bay?"

* * *

"Are you certain you want to do this by yourself?" Markus asked.

He stood beside Connor and across from Andy, his attention on the former deviant hunter. They'd formulated a full plan by now, but the risk was great. No matter how desperate or confident anyone was, they knew this was a long shot.

But Connor wouldn't let that stop him. He began to repeat what he'd been saying all day, "I'm not going to put anyone else in danger-"

"Putting yourself in more danger than necessary isn't going to help, either," Andy interrupted, growing more tired of hearing his argument by the minute.

His eyes narrowed on her. "This  _is_  necessary," He insisted before more calmly assuring her, "I'll be okay."

It was clear she didn't like what he said, but with a faint scowl, she chose to leave it - for now. Markus spoke up, not wanting to give her time to change her mind. "Let's assume he succeeds. How long will it take to get to the protest?"

Andy turned her focus onto the map, dragging a finger across as she said, "They'll probably be blocking off these streets with SWAT vehicles. If things get rough, they'll bring in tanks from this way." She paused to perform some quick, messy math, and shrugged. "Twenty minutes, maybe?"

"Can you do that?" Markus asked, to which Connor nodded.

"I think so."

"So we keep them busy long enough for Connor to arrive, and we hope our numbers overwhelm them," Markus summarized. It was easier said than done, and the gunshot wound from their march down Woodward was nagging at him. "Granted, they have to not shoot us all down first," He muttered.

Even with Connor attempting a coup in the middle of the lion's den, what Markus was going to do was the most dangerous job. There was not a single reason Perkins wouldn't have all of Jericho killed and destroyed before Connor so much as set foot in the warehouse of CyberLife, let alone made it out to the street.

Andy had an idea, but it was just a kernel.

Heaving a large sigh, she said, "I'll take care of police response - you worry about your part."

The androids standing across from her shared a glance with each other and then to her. "What are you going to do?" Markus asked.

She was quiet a few more seconds, reassuring herself that this was for a good cause, and that she would not fail. Finally she looked up from the map and told him, "I'm going to go into work tomorrow."

* * *

Markus returned to the others to inform them of the next day's schedule. They listened to his every word, equal parts fear and hope on their faces. For Markus' part, he did his best to appear confident and soothe their nerves. It was a bittersweet moment, sunlight peaking through church windows of saviors and saints and casting a glow over an otherwise dark moment.

"There's no talking you out of this, is there?"

Lingering by the front doors in a pew furthest from the scene, Andy and Connor watched them. She sat over the back of the pew with her feet on the booth, and Connor stood at her left side. She'd spoken to him seemingly out of the blue, seeking confirmation, reassurance, or something to ease her concern.

Connor shook his head, his answer simple. "No."

"Well then, it's stupid." He looked to her in mild surprise, and she replied with a blank stare and a subtle pout. " _You're_  stupid."

There was no real bite to her words, and it pulled a smile from him. "I get lucky," He offered, shrugging.

She rolled her eyes and waved off his comment, muttering, "Luck tends to run out once you get cocky, so maybe cool it a little."

"I appreciate your concern," He started, leaning toward her, "But I'm going to be okay."

His words did not help her - if anything, the flash of emotion on her face indicated they angered her. Expression souring, she scolded him, "You can't promise that, so don't." He had no time to regret his words and apologize before she was looking away to the other side of the church. "Just follow the plan and do what you need to do."

"I will." He watched her, trying to understand where her head was in that moment. They weren't strangers to disagreements, but this was a glimpse at a frustration he'd seen all but once. It was early on in their relationship when they found Hank on the floor of his kitchen, gun in hand. He wouldn't understand until later how harsh the fight that followed really was.

It was an odd feeling to think of himself as not a machine these humans worked with, but as another  _person_  in their lives. He always knew his actions affected them, but now he was solely accountable for those consequences. Now there was no arguing about her concern - he was  _not_  just a machine and it was not pointless. It was odd to accept her worry.

But he was not the only one to cause concern. Andy would be putting herself in the line of fire tomorrow, and without his success, she would fail. "Are  _you_  sure about you're going to do?" He asked, turning the conversation onto her.

"Nope," She popped, unaware of his mulling. "It might not even work. And I still have to get Richards on board, and he's already done more than I should ever ask of him-"

"You can back out while there's still time," He interrupted, drawing her attention back to him. "I wouldn't blame you."

They stared for a long time, perhaps letting doubt grow within themselves, or trying to let go of their fears. Finally, she mumbled, "I would."

Markus had begun to approach them, and he stood in the isle by the pews. Leaning in, he asked Andy, "May I talk to you?" Curiously, Andy nodded and slid off the pew. She met him in the isle between, and he requested, "I have a small favor to ask."

She wondered how small this favor would actually be, but shrugged, "Why not? Got nothing better to do."

With a small, grateful smile, he said, "There's somewhere I need to go. I was hoping you'd give me a ride."

"Markus-" They looked behind him to see North approach with a hand out toward his arm. "Don't. We can't trust her. She's a  _human_  with the  _cops._  I'm surprised we're not dead already," She spat out, sending a heated glare Andy's way.

Andy wasn't a stranger to distaste for authority, but this felt a conversation not for her ears. She shifted awkwardly in place, hands sipping into her pockets and eyes drifting away to the side.

It was also a conversation that had been going for a while, and Markus walked away from it for a reason. "Which is why I think we  _can_  trust her," He started, "I need to go, North."

Her lips pursed as she stared at him, trying to think of something to say to convince him otherwise. She believed he was letting his emotions get in the way of logic, that this could wait until after they fought for their freedom, but it was a sensitive topic, and North was not very good at sensitive.

Finally, she said, "Well if you're going, I'm coming with you."

Markus paused, and they both looked to Andy. It seemed a decent compromise. Realizing they were waiting on her, she perked up, glancing between them. Still stiff, she mumbled, "I... have a bike."

North dropped her shoulders and gave a visible scoff. Andy shrugged and tried her best to appear clueless and innocent. Putting a hand on North's arm, Markus assured her, "I'm going to be okay."

North wanted to argue, but she swallowed it down and stepped back. Andy turned to see Connor still watching curiously, and she gestured to him that all was well, and to wait there. Markus walked by her to the doors, and she fell in step beside him, asking, "So where to?"

* * *

"You're going to  _what_?"

Andy winced at the yell. She stood at the end of a snowy path, where she had wrapped up the description of her vague outline of a plan with Hank over the phone. If he got his outbursts out of his system  _before_  they returned to his home, perhaps they could enjoy their last night of quiet before all hell broke loose. Glancing back to check on Markus, she whispered, "Do you have a better idea?"

She could almost feel Hank's incredulous stare. "Gee, I don't know - don't obstruct justice?"

"It's not obstruction," She argued, offended. Trailing off, she muttered, "It's... a detour."

Silence followed.

"A detour."

Closing her eyes, she began, "I know that's stupid-"

"Yeah!"

She ignored his interjection, continuing, "-But it's the only choice I can live with."

That would simply have to be enough of a reason. It was for her, and after her last conversation with Hank, she hoped he would understand. He heaved a sigh and exclaimed, "You realize this will  _have_  to work, right? If you do this and androids fail at this revolution thing, you're not just out of a job, Andy. You're going to be seen as a domestic fuckin' terrorist!"

She shrugged. "I'm trying to not think about it."

Scoffing, he muttered, "Yeah, well, it's all I  _can_  think about. Does Connor know you're doing this?"

"He knows the gist," She replied. The question got her thinking about Connor's part in all of this; it was integral to everyone's success, and that gamble had her more nervous than anything else. "Honestly, you think my plan's bad, you should hear his."

"No, no, no, don't. I'm too sober for more bullshit," He spat.

"I'm doing this, Hank, so just..." She didn't know what to say here. It was too much to ask him to agree with her, and even if he could, she would never ask him to help. All she wanted was for him to understand. "Have my back."

He snorted, telling her, "That was a given, Andy."

It really wasn't, not to her. She smiled, mumbling, "Thanks."

Hanging up, she glanced to the time and turned around. Yards away from her, Markus stood in front of a sleek new grave covered in snow. He spoke under his breath to someone lost, and he paid respects. They needed to leave before it got dark, though, and she'd decided now was the time to approach him.

As she closed in, he spoke louder, "Carl was a good man. He didn't deserve the way things ended."

She stopped beside him and nodded. "That's usually how it goes."

"He was a father to me. He taught me so much...," He shook his head, finally pulling his eyes away from the name on the tombstone to look up at the clouds overhead. "I keep trying to imagine what he'd say to me now, but all I hear is questions and blame."

Cocking her head to the side, she repeated, "That's usually how it goes." Feeling herself fidget in her pockets, she added, "And people tell you they wouldn't blame you, and you know they're right, but it doesn't matter. You can't stop hearing your doubts in their voice."

He looked down at her, taking in her words. Carl had always pushed him to be more than his programming, to look beyond barriers and limitations and see the world for what it was capable of being. What he was doing now with Jericho was almost a natural progression from there, but it didn't change the doubt and the worry.

"Maybe that's just the burden of being left behind," He speculated, his voice soft and bittersweet, "Having to accept that we need to find our own way without them."

She huffed, but offered a weak smile. "Yeah."

He opened his mouth to speak once more, but cut himself short. His expression fell, and noticing it put Andy on guard. He was looking over her head now, staring with a cold anger that Andy usually only saw seconds before someone was shot. She turned to assess the situation, half expecting federal agents or her own colleagues.

Markus was almost towering over her, the way he stood there now facing down Leo Manfred.

She knew his face almost as well as Markus did, though for different reasons. To Markus, he was the reason his life fell apart. For Andy, he was one of Nick Weaver's regulars who stopped coming around a month prior. He hadn't even noticed Andy, returning Markus' stare with one of shock, regret, and fear.

"Let's go," Markus whispered behind Andy.

The quiet warning in his tone put her on edge more than she would have expected, but she nodded and followed behind him. She kept a hand near the gun at her hip as they moved, and a close eye on the man who still hadn't moved from his spot.

They passed by slowly, and Leo didn't dare look at either of them.

* * *

After returning Markus to his people, Andy and Connor went back to Hank's. Thanks to Andy's earlier warning giving Hank time to cool down, there had been a smaller lecture than expected that met the two of them upon return.

She sat at the kitchen table now and scrolled through news on her tablet with a half empty bottle of beer in one hand. Hank sat across from her, immersed in his own thoughts. Connor was the same, sitting on the couch and absent-mindedly petting Sumo.

A part of him wanted to stay at the church where he thought he needed to be, but another part felt his presence would make others uncomfortable. He was deviant now, yes, and he wanted to help Jericho more than anything, but in some of their eyes, he was still the deviant hunter who had made their lives dark and difficult. It was best to give them space, especially when the threat of tomorrow was hanging over them.

"What do you think our chances are?" He asked, breaking the silence.

Andy and Hank looked to him; while Hank struggled to find a way to be encouraging despite his pessimism, Andy had no such trouble. With quirked brows, she replied, "Slim to none?"

With a small snort, Hank confided, "Perkins certainly isn't going to have a change of heart."

"You did," She joked.

He leaned over the table and narrowed his eyes. " _I'm_  not a scumbag."

This brought her a small grin. Connor hadn't said anything more after the first question, and it got Andy thinking about what was on his mind. Deciding they'd had enough of doom and dread, she called to him and asked, "What are you going to do if this does work out?"

He tuned back in to the world. It was a strange question that never occurred to him on his own. They were so stuck on yesterday and tomorrow that any time after that seemed so far away. "I hadn't considered getting there yet," He confessed, giving it the thought now. In a perfect world, regardless of anything else, he saw himself back in the DPD. "Do you think Captain Fowler would hire an android when this is over?"

Andy made a habit of not trying to predict her captain. It would never end well. She shrugged and answered, "You've got a better chance than anyone else."

Taking a sip of what was left of his beer, Hank added, "The others are mostly runaway housekeepers and laborers. Winning the first fight's only the beginning." He trailed off, letting his words sink in before asking, "You sure you're ready for that?"

They weren't  _ready_  for anything, but was anyone ever ready for a revolution? Shaking his head, Connor stated, "It doesn't matter. I'm alive and there's no turning back."

It was as good an answer as any, if not the only one. "Just gotta hope everyone else sees it," Andy murmured.

The mood had fallen again, and the new quiet lingered. With his beer finished, Hank heaved a sigh and stood from the table. "Well I'm calling it a night," He declared, moving to toss his bottle in the trash. He stopped at the corner of the kitchen on his way out, and turned to face the others. "Listen, uh...," He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd say 'don't do anything stupid,' but, well- Good luck tomorrow."

They didn't reply right away, but Andy nodded. "Thanks, Hank." He sighed again before he retreated to his bedroom, leaving them to themselves. She would need to get some sleep soon, too, though how easily that would come was beyond her. Their chances really did seem slim to none.

She should have been a wreck over it. It should have had her a shaking mess, and she was almost there earlier that day, but something else was occupying her thoughts tonight. Tapping a finger on the side of her bottle, she spoke up, "You want to know something weird?"

It caught Connor's attention, and he asked, "What is it?"

She took a moment to get her words together. "Tomorrow we're standing up to the entire country and risking death and prison and who knows what else...," Trailing off, she shook her head. "And all I can think about right now is Leo Manfred."

He recognized the name. Not only was it was in his files at work, but he'd seen the man himself in Sam's memories. It wasn't even on the list of things he would have expected her to say. He sat up on the couch, tilting his head. "Carl Manfred's son?"

She ignored the question and let herself muse. "I knew the guy-" She waved a hand, specifying, "Leo, not Carl. He was one of Weaver's clients. Used to brag about his dad's money." Huffing into the bottle of beer, she took a sip and continued, "Stupid. If not for Sharon, Weaver would've gone for it. Broke in while Manfred was at some big event somewhere."

It was yet another version of reality he would be grateful didn't come to pass, but still he didn't understand. "Why are you thinking about him?"

She wish she knew the answer to that question. "One day he was gone. Out of nowhere. We thought maybe he OD'd or left town. Sometimes they do that - they got a warrant and they disappear for a while." Her face went blank at that point, not knowing if what she felt was sympathy, frustration, or some twisted sense of guilt. Under her breath, she muttered, "Turns out his dad just died."

Connor watched her sit in her contemplation. He still didn't understand it - and he was coming to the realization he probably never would - but it sort of amazed him. Of all the things to focus on and obsess over, for Andy, it was this. It was Leo Manfred, an addict she knew only as Victoria Palmer. It was his life and the pain he'd gone through that was settled into the forefront of her mind.

He had nothing but side commentary to offer her, for whatever that was worth. "It's interesting how grief can alter a person's entire life."

"Interesting," She repeated to herself. It's not the word she would have chosen. At least, it didn't feel very fascinating for the one going through it. That was scary and overwhelming and a bit like you were the heaviest object in the ocean, just sinking to the bottom. Her throat started tightening, but she pushed through. "Connor."

Her voice was soft now, right above a whisper, and he worried he said the wrong thing. "Yes?"

She kept her eyes on the table, and on the tablet in front of her. Recycling centers, curfews, and raids. It was all she could find, each story more sensational than the last.  _This_  was not interesting. There had been enough grief. "Promise me."

He was lost for a second, but their conversation in the church came back to him now. "But you..."

"I know." She nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn't press the issue. She couldn't explain herself, not when she didn't know how.

He didn't understand her - and he was beginning to suspect few people ever did - but she amazed him.

"I promise I'll be okay." He hoped it was sincere enough, heavy enough to resonate with her and offer her whatever comfort she was looking for.

She couldn't say if it helped or not. All the words in the world couldn't change the risks or stop the nightmare scenarios, but words and hope were all she had. It was more than what Leo Manfred had, or Markus, or Hank, and it was more than she'd ever been given before.

It would have to be enough.


	12. Reporters and Barricades

**November 16, 2038**

 

_"At 6 AM yesterday morning, a national curfew was declared. Civilian movement will be strictly controlled, the right to assembly is suspended, all electronic communications are restricted, and I have granted enhanced powers to our security agencies. In addition to these measures, all androids must be handed over-"_

Lieutenant Richards muted the TV and tossed the remote behind him onto his desk. He sat against the edge at one end, and he faced the wall-mounted screen in the SID office with an unreadable expression.

Andy stood nearby. They'd been suffering an awkward silence ever since she came into work and asked for his help, and it was wearing on her. Shifting nervously, she began, "I know I'm asking a lot, and it's a big risk-"

Snorting, he glanced to her and muttered, "That's an understatement."

It was, and she couldn't believe she was asking it, but this was too important. She couldn't back down. "I need your help."

He said nothing right away, contemplating his answer. Helping her this far had been stupid, especially when he had almost no confidence in an android revolution. Either way he looked at it, though, the president's press conference was nothing short of atrocious to him. They were lines pulled straight from history books, and he had a feeling this was his chance to not be on the wrong side.

"You sure about this - about them?" He asked, gesturing to the screen as it played b-roll of Jericho's former marches and protests.

At this question, her nerves ebbed away. "I am."

If he knew anything, it was that when Andy was this certain, she was usually right. Heaving a loud sigh, he made up his mind and nodded. "Then let's convince everyone else."

If it were that simple, she thought, they would have done it already. Cocking her head, she retorted, "I'll put world peace on the to-do list, but in the meantime, maybe we think a little smaller?"

He reached for a sticky note and a pen as told her, "Thinking small is what got your pals into this mess in the first place." Writing quick information on the paper, he held the note out for her to take. "You forget we have contacts."

She recognized the name scribbled over top a phone number, and it was all she needed to know what he wanted. She began to ask another question, when the door opened. Officer Louis Springer peaked his head into the room, and upon seeing them, he approached the desk.

"What do you need, Springer?" Richards asked.

He was reluctant to answer, but he glanced to Andy and said, "Perkins wants more of us on patrol."

Richards scoffed and threw up a dismissive hand. Standing from his desk's edge, he exclaimed, "There  _aren't_  any more of us! It's just us three left."

Springer shrugged and offered, "We could pull from Traffic."

"We're not pulling from anywhere. This precinct still needs to run its day to day," Richards argued, thudding his index finger against the surface of his desk. Pointing at the officer, he said, "You tell Perkins he'll have to go knocking on Fowler's door before I put half of Detroit's police force on his precious Robo Watch."

Snorting, Springer nodded and turned to leave. "Yeah, I'll tell him that."

They waited until he left, and they heard his footsteps echo away from the door. Sneaking around their own felt inherently immoral, but that didn't mean it actually was. They would have to keep telling themselves that. "I hope you know what you're doing," Richards broke the silence, grim as he stared at the door, "Because this is either gonna be one messy end or just the beginning."

* * *

Connor stood in Hank's bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. With his uniform cleaned and his hair brushed back, he looked the same as he did the day he arrived at the police department. At the time, he was stoic, distant, and driven to fulfil what he thought was his purpose. Looking at himself now was like looking into the past, but with clearer hindsight and a dose of self-loathing.

He had once been willing to do anything to stop deviancy, even if it meant self destruction. That changed so quickly after the accident on the highway, when for the first time, he felt something. He felt  _fear_ , and it made him see everything in a different light. Pulling Hank up on that roof, letting the deviants at Eden Club escape, trying to save Andy, not killing Chloe - they had all been his little acts of rebellion against CyberLife. He was trying to redeem himself even before he became deviant, but now was his chance to do it the right way.

He finished his tie and pat it down on his chest before going into the living room. On top of Andy's tablet on the coffee table was a closed envelope, her name neatly written in the middle of it. The contents had taken him all morning to prepare, and he almost destroyed it three times since he finished it. It was a contingency plan, a small comfort for a worst case scenario. He did not want to die, not after he promised her he would be okay, but he would stop at nothing to see this through, and he had to prepare for that ending.

Connor said his goodbyes to Sumo, and left the house.

* * *

The hours went by as though it was a normal day at work. All units in the bullpen responded to normal dispatch calls and took on normal cases. People came into the station to report various nuisances, robberies, and vandalisms. Captain Fowler handled phone calls from the Chief of Police and managed his own station. In the SID office, Richards and Andy were discussing the logistics of their plan for the night, and keeping a close eye on the time.

The sun was going down when Andy stood and left the office. She slid a hand into her pocket and was on her way to the bathroom when she heard a yell from the bullpen. "Hey, Hope!" She didn't need to look back to see Gavin Reed rushing to catch up to her. He slowed down at her side, musing, "Lookin' bored in that office."

She shrugged, offering a simple, "It's a boring day."

"Yeah, well, we can't all be out shooting down plastics with the FBI, unfortunately," He complained. Andy stopped at the door to a bathroom, and he turned to face her with a smirk. Gesturing to his desk, he said, "But if you rejoined homicide, you'd be out there with me."

It wasn't the first time he tried to get her to return to homicide, and she doubted it would be the last. She pulled her phone from her pocket as she glanced to him. "Kiss my ass, Reed," She said before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door in his face.

She crossed the room and entered the stall in the back, shutting the door and dialing the number Richards gave her. She stood still in the small space she had, listening for echoes in the bathroom underneath the ringing in her ear. When a voice finally answered on the other said, she began. "Hey, Joss, this is the Special Investigations Division with the DPD. I'm about to make your day."

* * *

It was only as Connor's taxi drove toward the CyberLife tower that it started to sink in how exactly risky this plan was. There was a very real possibility that he would be destroyed on sight for deviating, or worse - he would be taken into custody and they would relieve him of his memories. The idea that he could be used as a weapon against Jericho with or without his input was the most unsettling one of them all.

His taxi reached the end of the bridge and neared the gates blocking passage. Armed guards stood in position nearby, and once the car stopped, one of the guards approached. A drone hovered overhead, its spotlight shining on the taxi. Connor rolled down the window as the guard leaned in to meet him.

"Connor Model #313 248 317. I'm expected."

The visor the guard wore lit up, scanning Connor's LED. It was a swift process that felt like hours, and then the guard nodded. "Okay. Go ahead."

He stepped back, allowing the car room to proceed. The gate opened, and Connor was taken to the front of the tower, where many employees were already leaving for the night. He almost felt relieved at getting past the gate, but reminded himself it was the easiest step. Getting unrestricted use of the elevator would be his next hurdle, and that would require a special level of discipline.

* * *

Joss Douglas had been hesitant to take the information Andy was offering him, but he recognized a news story when he saw it. Once she was satisfied he would play his part, she ended the call and left the bathroom. She was on her way back to SID's office when she spotted Agent Perkins near the entrance of the bullpen. He was speaking with Springer, no doubt receiving the rejection for more of the department's resources.

He scoffed at something Springer said and shook his head, his gaze drifting toward the captain's office. Along the way, he caught sight of Andy, and stopped to linger on her. They were never introduced, and this was the first time they had shared so much as a glance, but they knew each other all the same. This exchange alone was enough for them to decide they did not like each other.

One ringing phone was normal in the department, but every one of them going off was not. Andy stopped walking, and she and Perkins both looked toward the bullpen. Almost every desk had a call coming in from dispatch, and in his office, Fowler seemed to be juggling a handful of them himself. It didn't take long for Perkins' own cellphone to join the frenzy.

Markus was on the move.

The door to SID opened and Richards came face to face with Andy. "Time to move out," He nodded and shut the door behind him, "Hope you convinced Joss."

"You're not the only one," She mused, falling into place behind him.

They stepped up to Perkins, who pulled away from his phone to point at them. "Detective Richards, I need your people to set up blockades at-"

"That's  _Lieutenant_  Richards, Agent Perkins, but I'll forgive you - it's hard for kids to remember that kind of thing," Richards interjected, casually inciting Perkins' ego. He waved a hand, adding, "And we're already on it. Turns out my people are quicker on the draw than yours, and they're gonna box them in right where we want 'em. We've got a good back route to get there, too, if you think you need some help-"

Perkins was glaring at Richards as he snapped, "I think we can manage,  _Lieutenant._ "

Richards shrugged, and gestured for Andy and Springer to follow him. "Suit yourself."

* * *

Connor stood in an elevator with two guards who insisted on escorting him. Their backs were turned to him, and they faced the glass as they ascended to floor 31. This gave Connor enough room to locate the security camera in the corner of the elevator, and disable it.

Fifteen seconds. It took him fifteen seconds to incapacitate the guards. He was careful not to kill them, remembering the order Andy issued him. It was an important order, as blood had yet to be spilled by Markus, and it was an ideal they needed to follow if they wanted this to go their way. So he delivered swift blows to their head, enough to knock them out cold but keep them alive.

He stepped over their bodies and reached for the panel by the doors. Placing a hand on the interface, he waited for the software to respond.

_"Please indicate your identity and destination."_

"Agent 54. Level -49," He said. His voice was not his own, instead mimicking the unconscious guard to his right.

_"Voice recognition validated. Access authorized."_

He stepped back and knelt down. To ensure the guards would not be a problem, he removed their visors, emptied their guns - save for one he kept for himself - and disabled their radios. With ten floors left to go, he stood and waited to arrive at the warehouse level.

* * *

Andy jumped out of the police cruiser with Richards and Springer not far behind her. While Richards moved to the back of the car and Springer took off, she took a moment to look around.

Hart Plaza was already buzzing with activity. Officers from SID were rounding up barricades and pushing them out to the streets. A group of reporters and photographers seemed to have been tipped off early, as they stood along the outskirts. They looked in at the armored vehicles and the command post being set up in front of the recycling center that was erected in the plaza the day prior. The scene was the start of a storm, and Andy was feeling the weight.

"Shame the FBI couldn't make it past that road block," Came Richards' voice. She stepped around to the back of the cruiser, where he had opened the trunk and was preparing the duffle bags of equipment he brought with them.

She pulled a bulletproof vest from one of the bags. As she hoisted it over her torso, she muttered, "Guess they should've followed us down that back way after all."

Richards snorted and held out her helmet. "Go help with the barricades," He said as she tossed it between her hands.

She slid the helmet over her head as she raced across the street to the last section that needed to be blocked off. A line of journalists had formed there with cameras and microphones, attempting to gather a statement from authorities. Andy reached for the end of a barricade, helping one of her co-workers push it into place.

"A question, officers! Just one!"

She glanced up at the reporters, scanning over each of them until she reached the end of the line. The woman standing there wore a lanyard with Channel 16 credentials, and she latched onto the attention, holding out a recorder. "Officer! Is the DPD prepared for a riot like this?"

Andy shifted backwards and said, "This is a protest, not a riot."

They turned to walk away, but the reporter pushed past the others around her, asking, "Do you think a peaceful protest deserves this sort of response, then?"

The officer standing beside Andy shook her head in exasperation and walked by. Andy was left alone with the reporters for only a moment. "Not all of us agree with our orders," She told them before following after her co-worker, ignoring the rapid fire questions that erupted from the reporters.

A helicopter flew over the plaza,  _Channel 16_  printed on the side of it in large letters. Inside was Joss Douglas, directing his pilot to trail down the street, following the road blocks along Woodward Avenue. This was because half a mile away was a marching army of deviants.

Markus led the formation, with North to his left, and Josh and Simon on his right. They could see the road block from where they were already, including the armed officers and the journalists who waited for them. He looked up at the helicopter, standing there a moment longer as it circled around them, and then he continued Jericho's march.

They did not run. They did not yell, or fight. They walked down the road, shoulder to shoulder, eyes forward. They let bystanders stare and whisper to each other. They let photographers flash their cameras. It was a calm display in the face of a disproportionate response. It was their last stand.

At the command post, Andy joined Richards, who stood with a mix of SID and FBI agents now. A line of officers were forming behind individual barricades and resting heavy weaponry over the edges, each one aimed at Jericho. Richards watched the march, a coffee cup in his hand.

An officer on the line looked over his shoulder at the lieutenant. They had all been waiting for his word, and he decided now to say something. "Sir, we're ready on your order."

Richards merely shook his head. "We wait for backup before we do anything."

The officers shifted, their firearms lowering in uncertainty. Sharing glances, the one who spoke started to reply, "Agent Perkins-"

"Isn't here," Richards interrupted. He shrugged and motioned toward Jericho with his still-warm cup, saying, "Maybe they're all here to turn themselves in. We don't know why those androids are gathering, and until we do, I'm saying we hold." He looked to each of the FBI agents, stressing, "When Perkins finds his way out of his ass, you can take his orders all you want."

There was another, heavier shift, but they gave small nods of confirmation. "Yes, Sir..."

It didn't take long for Jericho to reach the end of the line.

They stood several yards from the center, and spread out to cover the width of the street. Markus kept his gaze straight ahead, searching the faces of the officers. Although helmets obscured them from his sight, he suspected the woman standing beside the presumed leader of these forces was Andy. He hoped she'd done her part to help them, whatever it was. When she left them the day before, she seemed to have only half a plan.

"Here we are... The moment of truth," He murmured to those closest to him. He stepped forward, breaking away from the deviants behind him and moving forward a number of feet.

No one shot him yet, which had to be a good sign. They were listening, whether they wanted to or not. "We ask that you release all androids detained in camps and cease all aggression against us," He yelled out to them, "We are peaceful. We will not resort to violence. But we are not leaving until our people are free."

Behind the command post lines, Richards lifted his coffee cup. "See? Now we know."

On the other end of the street, riot vehicles finally arrived at the scene. They pulled up and parked behind Jericho's group, effectively blocking them in with no escape. The officers climbed out of the vehicles and set up along the edge, arming and aiming their weapons. There was no turning back now. Jericho would have to hold on as long as they could, and hope.

Amid all of this, Springer walked up to Richards while holding a phone to his chest. "Captain Fowler wants to speak to you," He leaned forward and whispered, "He sounds pissed."

Richards stayed focused on the scene in front of him, watching the officers and the deviants alike wait for his response. "I don't take calls on the scene of a riot," He declared.

Springer shifted, glancing away in confusion. "It's... not a riot?"

"Great. Tell him to call off the crowd control and then we'll talk," Richards replied cheerfully.

With a heavy sigh and an annoyed expression, Springer muttered, "I really hate delivering your messages, Lieutenant."

"Keep up the good work, Springer," Richards called to him as he walked away, lifting the phone to his ear.

Andy was growing anxious. If Fowler was noticing something was amiss, it wouldn't be long before the consequences started to hit. She had yet to hear from Connor, and it would appear by Markus' friends that they were in the dark as much as she was. Time was ticking, and they did not have much of it to begin with. "Perkins will be here soon," She warned her superior.

Richards nodded, but otherwise did not acknowledge her comment at first. Confusion was mounting for the FBI agents, who until now believed this was to be a swift stomping of deviancy. The minutes were effecting SID, as well - Richards could feel their suspicions forming. He'd handpicked each officer on his team, worked with them all for years, and they knew when he was up to something. If he was right, they knew they could follow him without having the whole story, too.

He took a sip of his coffee, and finally replied, "A few more blocks for the cameras, then."

* * *

There were thousands of androids in the CyberLife warehouses. Connor knew this going in, but to stand among them now and seek to help every one of them, he realized how daunting the number was. Thousands of them stood there, not yet awake, not yet experiencing life. Waiting to be freed. And this was just one warehouse. Several more stood around the CyberLife Tower.

It was now or never. The skin on his hand disabled, fading into the white under layer, and he reached out to the nearest android from where he stood in the center of the room.

"Easy, fucking piece of shit!"

It was a familiar voice, and had Connor been anywhere else, he would been relieved to hear it. There in the warehouse, however, it was easily the worst sound he could have heard. He turned to see Hank pushed into the aisle between androids, and next to the man was Connor himself.

How could he have been so stupid as to not predict this?

The next make of the RK800 was holding a gun to Hank's head, and staring at the one who came before him. "Step back, and I'll spare him," He warned.

"Sorry, Connor," Hank yelled, nodding toward the RK800. "This bastard's your spitting image..."

It was like that morning, when Connor was looking into the mirror and seeing who he'd been just a week ago, except this version of him was staring back with an equal level of contempt. While Connor saw the stubborn fool he had once been, this RK800 saw nothing but a broken machine.

The RK800 jutted the gun closer to Hank's temple. "Your friend's life is in your hands. Now it's time to decide what matters most! Him, or the revolution."

"Don't listen to him! Everything this fucker says is a lie!" Hank argued. He tried to hold himself calmly, tried to show Connor with ever fiber of his being that this wasn't his fault, and it was okay.

At one time, he probably would have believed it. After all, Connor had not been a sympathetic partner.

But Hank stood by him. He didn't deserve it; he was cold and arrogant and he would probably never be able to fix the mistakes he made, but Hank stood by him. He clapped a hand on Connor's shoulder, called him son, and put his career on the line to help, even when he wasn't sure it was for the right reasons. Now he put his life down, and this wasn't just for Connor. It was for the deviants at the Eden Club, and the ones who raced across the highway.

It was because of all of this that Connor removed his hand from the android beside him.

* * *

A cruiser sped down a connecting road to Woodward, and screeched to a halt near the other police vehicles. A few people turned to watch the scene as Agent Perkins stepped out of the car. He slammed the door shut behind him, and he marched across the street toward the command post.

He was  _not_  pleased.

"Glad you could finally make it, Agent Perkins," Richards called out to him.

Perkins was on a fast track to meet the lieutenant face to face. "Shove it up your ass, Richards," He bit, stopping in front of the man. "Somehow you get here before us, and then I see articles popping up already about the-" He held up his phone, reading the article on his screen, "-doubt and sympathy rising among the Detroit Police Department for android rights."

Andy wished she could shrink back, but it was too late. Perkins' glare had shifted to her - he would never be able to prove it, but he knew it was her. Leaning closer to Richards, he threatened, "If I find out you contributed to the delay of my handling of these machines or that you had any of your people talking to the press without my permission, I'm going to have more than just your badge when this is over, you hear me?"

The intimidation would not work on Richards, who had been around the block for far too many years now to cower to every upstart with a badge. "We offered you a ride, you wanted us to be thorough with the road blocks, and I can't help who my people talk to or who might overhear them," Richards disputed before offering a lazy shrug, "But if you want to take my badge for just following orders, hey, retirement doesn't sound half bad."

Between his nonchalance, and Jericho's continued evasion, Perkins wasn't sure which he hated more. He resisted the urge to continue this fight, though it was not easy, and turned away. Markus still stood in front of his people, and Perkins pointed to him, yelling, "Why aren't we firing?"

"Lieutenant... Richards told us to... wait for you, Sir," An agent answered somewhere in the crowd nearby.

Perkins almost blew up all over again, but held it together. He removed himself from the conversation with Richards, and gestured to whoever was closest, yelling, "Someone get me a fucking megaphone!"

He snatched it from the grasp of a nervous officer, and walked over to the edge of the blockades, where his agents remained with their weapons. Raising the megaphone, he reached out to Markus.

"I've come to talk to you, Markus! You have my word: they won't try anything."

Andy and Richards shared an uneasy glance, and Richards stepped forward, asking, "You planning to negotiate, Agent Perkins?"

"Of course not," Perkins scoffed, as if disgusted by the idea, and walked past the blockade to begin his sudden meeting with the leader of Jericho.

Meanwhile with the group, North grabbed Markus' arm to keep him from going. It was bad enough they trusted Andy, bad enough they put Connor at the center of their strategy, but  _this_? "Don't... It's a trap. They wanna get you out in the open."

Perkins was tired of waiting. "I'm unarmed, Markus. I just want to talk," He spoke into the megaphone.

Markus had no intention of making any sort of deal with this man. That being said, Connor had yet to contact any of them, and it was obvious Andy's allies were losing control of whatever situation was happening behind the blockades. He just needed to buy them time.

"I need to hear what he has to say," He said, taking a step forward.

* * *

There was a standoff taking place in the CyberLife warehouses.

Connor had tried briefly to appeal to the RK800, to convince him to deviate, but he was not surprised he failed. It took more than just a conversation for Connor - it took a week of Hank's partnership, of Andy, of scared deviants. It took Markus, who was far better with his words.

They stood side by side, not moving, because Hank had taken control of the gun, and he shifted the aim between them. They bore identical wounds, the same uniform and LED, the same face. Connor had suggested asking questions only he would know, and he could feel Hank edging closer and closer to the one that would put an end to all of this.

Hank wrapped his second hand around the gun, and aimed steady at Connor. "My son, what's his name?"

"Cole. His name was Cole," Connor was quick to reply, "He just turned six at the time of the accident."

They never talked about it. Hank didn't  _want_  to talk about it. Connor regretted that, not pushing at topics where maybe he should have. Hank's gun was lowering, and so Connor continued to look him in the eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Lieutenant. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it... so an android had to take care of him."

"Cole didn't make it. That's why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son's death," He ended softly. A part of him had hoped he would have a chance after all this to change Hank's views on androids.

No, not change it - Hank was already doing that all on his own, because that was the kind of man he was. Connor just hoped to be there to see it. He'd been telling himself since that morning that his death didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, and now that he was faced with it, he wanted nothing more than to survive, for himself and his goals and the family he somehow managed to create without trying.

Hank was gritting his teeth. He never talked about this. Didn't  _want_  to. "Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate. He was the one that took my son from me - him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder..."

They stared at one another, another conversation happening underneath it. A confession, and an apology. That conversation - not the answer Connor gave - was what Hank needed.

The RK800 lifted his hands to his chest. "I knew about your son, too! I would have said exactly the same thing! Don't listen to him, Hank, I'm the one who-"

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse, followed by a thud as a body fell to the ground.

* * *

On one side of the meeting stood Perkins, and on the other was Markus. They'd been talking for some time in quiet tones, away from their respective factions.

Andy stood near the barricades in the back, with a few others from SID. A laptop had been placed on a crate, propped up with its screen playing Channel 16's coverage of the night. They watched quietly as Joss Douglas reported the news alongside a helicopter view of Jericho standing against the FBI and the Detroit police. Simon and Josh had set up a billboard over top the barricades near them, the words  _We Are Alive_  floating in the wind.

"Anyone else feel like they're gonna need to shower for a week after this?"

"Did you forget about all the attacks Anderson was investigating? Deviants are dangerous."

"Did you even read his reports? Please. I would have killed a man for trying to strangle me, too."

The officers sitting with Andy spoke amongst themselves, whispering with scrunched faces of discomfort. She didn't contribute to the conversation, though she listened all the same. Maybe she had been onto something before, with the reporters - that there were others who didn't like the sight of riot gear in response to deviancy. Maybe she just needed to make that more obvious.

_"Thousands of androids are taking to the streets of Detroit at this very moment. They're absolutely everywhere!"_

Joss' voice came over the screen, louder with enthusiastic surprise this time. Indeed, the camera in the helicopter was turned downward onto the street directly below it, and was showing a new crowd of androids marching down Woodward with a familiar advanced prototype in the lead.

_"This... This is incredible..."_

Andy couldn't describe the relief she felt in that moment, and she stood to look out at Jericho, hoping they had received the same news.

Between Perkins and Markus, the FBI agent had laid it out simply for the deviant leader. He'd explained that they were cornered and the authorities were armed with enough power to clear them out for good. He'd ended his smug speech with an ultimatum, a promise that Jericho would be spared if Markus surrendered himself.

Markus would not back down so easily. "What happened to the other androids demonstrating in the camps?" He asked.

Shaking his head, Perkins replied, "Unfortunately, you're it. You're the last remaining deviants."

That was a hard sentence to hear, despite doubting the truth of it.

Markus glanced over the agent's shoulder, scanning the officers who watched them. He stopped when he spotted Andy in the back. Helmet or not, when she raised a hand toward her chest and twirled her finger, a signal for rallying, he knew it was her.

It was the confirmation he needed, and with a quick check-in to the other groups spread out in the city, he was certain. This was not over. Lifting his chin, he returned Perkins' stare with one of his own. "I'd rather die here than betray my people."

He turned to walk away without waiting for a response, leaving Perkins to stand there and fume. This all could have been handled days ago if he'd just been given jurisdiction sooner. If not for Fowler and his idiot lieutenants, if not for that pathetic excuse of a 'detective robot', if not for Narcotics and Special Investigations - if not for all the things that stood in his way, he would have shut this down the day it started. And now Markus thought he could just walk away like this?

Somewhere behind him, he heard an agent over the radio.  _"We've got more deviants coming in... Uh, I- I don't know how many..."_

It was the last straw for Perkins, who began to retrieve his firearm from its holster. North and Andy were the first to see it, and both women jumped into action.

"Markus!"

"Hey!"

The seconds, and the silence, that followed felt sluggishly, painfully slow for everyone involved. By the time Markus had turned around, the gun was out and aimed for him. North was quicker, though, and she'd placed herself in front of him, hands tight at his arms to keep him safe behind her. Andy was a close second to the gun, having moved into view not more than a second or two later.

The four of them stood there, a snapshot frozen in time, and neither Jericho nor the authorities knew what the next move was here.

Of course, Perkins was the first to recover. His cold stare was on Andy, the low grumble of his order more intimidating to her than yelling ever could be. "What... do you think you're doing?"

Andy couldn't believe what she'd done, and she had long since stopped feeling her legs. She prayed she was really still standing as she told him, "You are not going to shoot an unarmed man." Despite the shakiness of her voice, she could hear the certainty of it, and it surprised her.

It also angered Perkins. "How dare you-"

"They're peaceful and unarmed. They've only acted in self defense," She interrupted. Swallowing the lump trying to raise in her throat, she glared. "I saw what your boys did here the other day, when they beat that android until there was nothing left to recognize of him. Who were they protecting? What is all this for?" She exclaimed before shaking her head, "I didn't sign up for this."

Perkins never moved the barrel of his gun away from Andy, never took his finger off the trigger. In the days to follow, he would consider this his only mistake. He shook his head, scolding her, "I don't know what ass backwards hole Fowler's hiring his people out of around here, but I give the orders. Not you. Now stand down."

She straightened her back, trying to prepare herself for whatever would come next. "I refuse."

Recognizing this as the end of any possible negotiation he had with her, he yelled out to the officers behind him, "Someone arrest her!"

"No." The woman who spoke earlier about the Eden Club stepped around the blockades, closing in on Andy. Officer Botello was her name - she didn't know Andy well, having joined SID two years ago, but she knew right from wrong. Shaking her head, she confessed, "This is fucked up."

The man who'd been talking to her, Officer Nilson, nodded, putting down his firearm. "Yeah, I agree."

Perkins was completely and utterly bewildered. He looked to Richards, expecting anger or disappointment or anything other than what he got. The Lieutenant shrugged and turned to face the rest of his unit. "Anyone else feeling like standing with their team?" He asked, not shying away from asking a loaded question.

"Yeah, I'm with them."

"I'm not doing this."

"Me neither."

It wasn't all of the department, but it was enough to make a difference. It was enough to make the rest waver and doubt what they were doing, even if for a split second. It was enough for Richards. "Well, where my department goes, I go," He mused, stepping up toward them. His expression was quick to shift to something much more serious, something menacing, as he demanded, "Now get your gun out of my detective's face, Agent."

Breaking the tense atmosphere that followed was Joss Douglas, speaking from the laptop at the back.

_"This just in, folks - it appears as though some of the DPD are... refusing to stop the deviants' protest. In what I can only call an unprecedented turn of events, they're currently being held at gunpoint by their own commander."_

Still standing where he'd been at the start of this, Markus spoke up. "Are you going to shoot all of them too?" He asked Perkins, accusing, "We haven't drawn blood, but you were willing to shoot me in the back.  _You_  put more humans in danger than we ever did." Lifting his hands up to waist level and spreading his arms out to his sides, he asked loud enough for everyone to hear, "Is this how civilized men and women answer a peaceful protest?"

There were few words to describe the level of fury that adorned Perkins' face.

People were yelling. Citizens had joined reporters outside the barricades, and they were yelling. Some, of course, were anti-android and derogatory. Most, however, were supportive. They cried for Jericho's safety, for the FBI to stand down, for the bravery it took to stand there and face death. The public may not have been certain androids were everything Markus claimed they were, but they knew this much: This was too far. Society was meant to be better than this. Violence was not meant to be the first option.

Amid the yelling, a phone was ringing. Springer went to answer it, almost grateful for the distraction.

"Hello?" He asked, moments before his face flushed.

Pushing past the riot vehicles now was an overwhelming number of androids, each of them fresh faced, day one out of the warehouses. This was a sight that had even FBI agents pulling back. They weren't prepared for  _this._  They didn't have the ammunition for it, many doubted they had the hearts for it, and they were certainly not interested in fighting fellow officers.

Connor was front and center of his group, and he led them to where Jericho had been standing in the plaza already. He'd moved with confidence, until he saw what was going on between the FBI, Detroit police, and Jericho. Andy and North were acting as shields between Markus and Perkins, and everyone else looked floored.

Perkins finally lowered his gun, allowing even his own people a small breath of relief. He turned to look at the row of them, waving a hand through the air. "Arrest every single person who gets in the way!"

FBI agents began to move. Somewhere in the crowd of them, Springer was squeezing by to get to Perkins, who was still yelling orders to detain rebellious officers and begin firing on Jericho. "Sir!"

Perkins turned, having no patience or tolerance for Detroit officers at this point. "What?!"

"The-" Springer gulped, and leaned forward, phone in hand. " _President Warren_  wants to talk to you."

Meek as he was, his words stopped everyone in their tracks. Andy and Richards shared glances of equal confusion. Perkins took in a deep breath before snatching the phone from Springer. Springer shrugged to them as he backed away from the man, relieved to create some distance.

The seconds that passed were baffling more than they were anything else, more so when Perkins looked  _stunned._  He nodded and ended the call, though his grip was tight around the phone. He stood there, looking down at the pavement, processing what he'd heard.

Finally, he ordered to his men, "Stand down."

Just like that, it was over. Days of fighting and stressing led to this one night, and just like that, it was over.

SID and Jericho watched as every federal agent on the premises disarmed, removed their helmets, and moved to pack away their equipment. They didn't understand it, but they would follow the order. Meanwhile, Perkins was stone faced, staring into space somewhere to the right of Andy, North, and Markus.

Richards shifted, and called to him. "Well we appreciate your help in our affairs, Agent Perkins, but I think we can take it from here," He mused.

The rage that was once permeating Perkins seemed to be gone, now, and in its place was pure exhaustion. Head tilting up to the sky, he glanced to the lieutenant. "This isn't over."

"It is for tonight," Richards ended. He stepped past Perkins, waving SID officers to follow after him and yelling out orders of his own. "All my people over here. Someone get those barricades down. And get those riot vans out of here! I'm sick of seeing them."

* * *

Most of the FBI had cleared out. Some stuck around to help remove the barricades or shake the hands of the SID officers they'd been working with over the past few days. They didn't know what they thought about this android revolution, but they recognized what it took to stand there and tell Perkins no. They could respect that, at the very least.

Jericho was reuniting, and meeting their newest members. They gathered around Markus, North, and Connor, the three they believed to make the greatest strides for their cause. They hugged and laughed and checked on old injuries. Some collapsed and cried. Markus stood in front of them all, and he spoke to them.

"Today, our people finally emerged from a long night. From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence..."

With the barricades removed, journalists and photographers moved to get closer and record the scene.

"Today begins the most challenging moment in our fight. The moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. When we forgive our enemies."

Andy packed up the cruiser, and leaned against the back of it with Botello and Nilson. She would have to remember to take them to lunch one day. In the meantime, they would watch Markus' speech from a distance. Connor, North, Simon, Josh - they all stood behind him, facing out to the crowd.

"Humans are both our creators and our oppressors, and tonight... we've taken the first step toward making them our partners. Maybe even one day our friends."

Things were going smoothly, until Connor's LED flashed through yellow and red. His brows furrowed, lips pulling into a deep frown. It was not an expression Andy had ever seen before, and her concern skyrocketed when he reached for the gun at his waistband. She was preparing to stand and react to whatever was happening, when just as quickly as it started, the struggle vanished. He blinked a few times, his shoulders relaxing and his hand moving away from the gun.

"But the time for anger is over. Now we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect. We are alive! And now, we are free!"

* * *

Once Hart Plaza was cleared of any evidence that a riot response team had been deployed, Richards let his team leave. Andy joined a group of officers in a cruiser headed back to the precinct, where she made an immediate dash for her bike, avoiding any confrontation with the likes of Gavin Reed.

Walking into the house, she found Hank standing in the kitchen. They met halfway, just past the couch, and stood in front of one another. Staring. She'd noticed a faint bruise on his temple, and she tilted her chin to gesture toward it. "What happened to you?" She muttered.

That was his cue to snap. "Me?" He repeated, leaning forward. "You think you could have been any  _more_  reckless?" He asked, throwing his hands up and waving toward the flat screen by the wall, "And for God's sake, you did it  _on national television_!"

Andy had to have been tired if getting yelled at by Hank barely seemed to faze her. "We knew it'd happen one day," She joked, though half her tone was empty and weak.

He snorted. "Yeah, maybe." Quiet fell over them after this, but he stepped closer, brows furrowing as he stood over her. "Are you okay?" He whispered.

She swayed her head left and right, trying to estimate a truthful answer as she glanced away. "I may have blacked out back there, between jumping in front of a gun and... yelling at Perkins, so...," Voice quivering, she looked at him and pointed down at her feet. "Is it normal not to feel my legs? Because I can't feel my legs and I don't think that's normal."

Huffing, Hank put a hand at her back and ushered her toward the couch. "Come on, sit down. I'll get you a...," He trailed off, recognizing a beer was probably not the best thing to offer here. "Fuck, I don't know, some water?"

She nodded with eyes glazed over, half of her mind somewhere else as he moved to the kitchen. She lowered her head to rest it in her hands, but stopped halfway there. On the coffee table in front of her, resting on her tablet, was a white envelope. Her name had been written in crisp, perfect handwriting, nothing like Hank's or any other human she knew. She reached for it, and felt a small rectangular object inside.

Hank walked over. She put the envelope in her lap and looked up to take the water bottle he'd retrieved from the fridge. "Thanks."

He nodded and turned to lower himself onto the edge of the coffee table. With his hands in between his knees, he asked her, "Did you see Connor before you left?"

After she took a long sip of water, she leaned back against the couch. "We didn't get a chance to talk," She answered.

He said nothing else right away, but a thought occurred to him. "Hey." He paused, taking a moment to prepare himself. He'd planned to say this for a few days now, but sitting across from her made it that much harder. He thought to his night, to the conversation he'd had with Connor in the warehouse. Maybe it was time he stopped  _not_  talking about things. "I'm proud of you," He said, his tone low and sincere.

It was an odd feeling to realize she'd never heard those words before - odder still to realize how much she wanted to hear them. It was silly, she thought, to care that much about what he thought of her, but she couldn't deny that she did.

Bringing her water bottle back to her lips, she looked away and replied, "I'll remember that in prison."

He threw up his hands, scoffing. "Damn it, Andy, I'm trying here-"

"I appreciate it," She told him quickly, looking him in the eyes.

He paused to assess how serious she was being with him, and calmed when he decided she was being genuine. Slapping a hand on her knee, he stood and returned to the kitchen, leaving her to a new, more comfortable silence.

The day had been a long one, and tomorrow was full of unknowns, but she would leave it for tomorrow. She would take the rest of the night and enjoy what they'd accomplished. She would finish her water, get cleaned up, and return to Hart Plaza.

* * *

As it went later into the night, Connor managed to split away from Jericho's crowd. Richards sat on the hood of his cruiser nearby, in the middle of a conversation on his phone. He'd remained behind, alone, to watch over their assembly, ensuring nothing escalated.

"Honey, I know this isn't-" He stopped mid sentence when he saw Connor approach. Instead of waiting to see what he wanted, Richards gestured behind him. Connor's eyes moved in that direction, and across the street from where they were, he saw a familiar bike parked by the curb. He nodded to Richards before walking away.

Andy had gone home to Hank's and changed, and she looked all the better for it. With her hands deep in the jacket pockets and one foot crossed over the other, she was relaxing for the first time in days. She smirked as he grew closer. "Thought you might want a ride after the celebration was over."

He ignored the comment, striding up to her as he expressed concern. "I saw what happened with Perkins - are you all right?" He asked, stopping after he was close enough he could see the freckles over her cheekbones.

Lifting her head to meet his gaze, she joked, "It's not the first time I've had a gun in my face."

He wished he was more annoyed by her attitude than he was relieved. After everything, there she was  _smirking_. With a disapproving sigh, he chided, "You put yourself in too much danger."

"He wouldn't shoot an officer," She scoffed, shaking her head.

He frowned, knowing she was smarter than this. The truth, he suspected, was that she just didn't think of her own well-being. "And if he had fired the gun before he realized it?" He pushed.

There was a brief pause before she rolled her eyes and said, "All right, so I didn't think of everything. I'm human. I only have so much brain power." Before he could argue further, she added, "I did notice something was up with you, though. You want to tell me what happened back there when Markus was giving his speech?"

He leaned back a little, thinking about the moment he stood with Markus in front of Jericho. It should have been a great moment, should have been his redemption, but unfortunately it felt more like one step forward and two steps backward. "Can I explain it tomorrow?" He requested.

Andy watched him for any indication that it was too serious to let up on, but finally nodded. "Tomorrow," She repeated.

He would shift the conversation to what he believed was a more current problem. "Are you going to be in trouble at work?"

She shrugged. "Last I heard, Fowler just wants to clean this up and move on, but I don't know what that means for me, especially if Perkins pushes it," She explained, matter-of-fact about the whole ordeal.

"Do you regret it?" He asked her.

After some hesitation, she looked almost regretful as she replied, "Can I answer that tomorrow, too?"

He nodded. "Of course."

Their conversation died at that, but Andy didn't move off the side of the bike yet. Instead, she pulled a hand from her pocket, and Connor watched her place her hand in her lap, an unopened envelope rocking between her fingers. She didn't need to say anything to get his reaction. He stiffened, staring down at the envelope like a deer caught in the headlights.

He looked up at her and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped to think over his words. He was worried she was angry with him. Shaking his head, he tried to plead with her to understand. "I intended to keep my promise to you, but I had to plan for-"

"I know," She interrupted quietly, nodding. She thought of saying more, of thanking him or scolding him or just simply telling him she'd been scared for him. Instead, she grabbed his hand and brought it toward her, putting the envelope in his palm. Closing his fingers around it, she left it there with him.

He began to refuse to take it. That letter and the contents alongside it were for her, and that hadn't changed. He stopped himself, though, looking down at their hands which lingered there together. Perhaps... Perhaps he could keep it for a little while longer.

Realizing the position they were in, Andy pulled away. She smiled and picked up the straps to the two helmets she had dangling over her bike's handles. "Well I'm starving..." She began, standing from the bike. Pushing the spare helmet into Connor's arms, she added, "And you owe me dinner."

He looked down at the helmet as she climbed onto her bike. Chuckling, he said, "I don't recall promising you dinner, Detective."

She glanced back at him with a smirk. "Get on the bike."

* * *

_"Tonight, on November 16th 2038, thousands of androids invaded the city of Detroit. According to our sources, they originated from CyberLife warehouses believed to have been infiltrated by deviants. Rather than contain them, the Detroit Police Department joined their already overwhelming numbers. I am in communication with their Chief of Police, and in the coming hours, I will address the Senate to determine our response to this unprecedented situation. I know that public opinion has been moved by the deviants' cause. Perhaps the time has come for us to consider the possibility that androids are a new form of intelligent life. One thing is certain: the events in Detroit have changed the world forever. May God bless you and may God bless the United States of America."_


End file.
